“Mr. Vale,” the voice of Heinrich Bauer, the senior European board member, crackled through the speaker with glacial Swiss coldness. “We do not simply ‘get’ a Tennant back. You were explicitly warned during your onboarding orientation to consult the family council before making sweeping structural changes to core personnel. You assured us you had audited every department.”
“She was just a controller!” Martin shrieked, gesturing wildly at the empty air. “An old lady with a calculator and a mug! How was I supposed to know she’s Arthur Tennant’s granddaughter? The name on her badge said Vance!”
“Her mother was Martha Tennant,” Bauer replied, his tone dropping three degrees. “The sole surviving heir to forty-eight percent of the voting stock, which she quietly placed into an irrevocable family trust managed exclusively by—let me check the registry here—ah, yes. Clara Tennant herself. You didn’t fire an employee, Mr. Vale. You terminated your landlord.”
