“Granny, you’re in the wrong department,” the young employees smirked, glancing at the new hire. Little did they know she had just bought their company.
“Who are you here for?” the lad behind the reception desk muttered without looking up from his phone. His trendy haircut and designer hoodie screamed self-importance and utter indifference to the world around him.
Elizabeth Hawthorne adjusted her plain but well-made handbag on her shoulder. She had dressed deliberately to avoid attentiona modest blouse, a skirt just below the knee, comfortable flats with no heel.
The previous director, Gregorya silver-haired man weary of office politicshad smiled when she laid out her plan during the final negotiations.
“A Trojan horse, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he said with respect. “They’ll swallow the bait without noticing the hook. Theyll never guess who you areuntil its too late.”
“Im your new employee. Documentation department,” she said, her voice deliberately soft, stripped of authority.
The lad finally looked up. His gaze swept over herfrom her scuffed shoes to her neatly styled silver hairand his eyes flashed with undisguised mockery. He didnt even try to hide it.
“Oh, right. They said someone new was coming. Got your pass from security?”
“Yes, here.”
He lazily pointed toward the turnstile, as if directing a lost insect.
“Your desks somewhere over there, end of the hall. Youll figure it out.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Ill figure it out,” she repeated silently as she walked into the open-plan office, humming like a beehive.
She had been figuring things out for forty years. Shed salvaged her late husbands nearly bankrupt business, turning it into a profitable enterprise. Shed navigated complex investments that multiplied her fortune. Shed learned how not to lose her mind to loneliness in her empty mansion at sixty-five.
Buying this thriving but, as she suspected, rotten-from-within tech firm was her most interesting challenge in years.
Her desk sat at the very end, near the archive dooran old, scratched thing with a squeaky chair, an island of the past in an ocean of gleaming technology.
“Settling in?” came a saccharine voice from behind. Before her stood Olivia, head of marketing, in an immaculate ivory suit, smelling of expensive perfume and success.
“Trying to,” Elizabeth replied with a mild smile.
“Youll need to sort through last years contracts for Project Altair. Theyre in the archive. Shouldnt be too hard.” Her tone dripped condescension, as if assigning a task to someone of limited ability.
Olivia eyed her like a curious fossil before clicking away in her heels. As she left, Elizabeth caught a muffled snicker:
“HRs really lost it. Next, theyll be hiring dinosaurs.”
Elizabeth pretended not to hear. She needed to observe.
She wandered toward the development department, pausing near a glass-walled meeting room where young men debated heatedly.
“Miss, are you lost?” a tall man asked, stepping forwardStan, the lead developer. The companys rising star, according to his glowing self-penned profile.
“Yes, dear, Im looking for the archive.”
Stan smirked and turned to his colleagues, who watched like it was free entertainment.
“Granny, I think youre in the wrong department. The archives back that way.” He vaguely gestured toward her desk. “Were doing real work here. The kind you wouldnt understand.”
A quiet chuckle rippled through the group. Elizabeth felt a cold, controlled fury rise in her chest.
She studied their smug faces, Stans expensive watch. All paid for with her money.
“Thank you,” she replied evenly. “Now I know exactly where to go.”
The archive was a cramped, windowless room. Elizabeth got to work. The Altair folder was easy to find.
She sifted through the paperscontracts, appendices, invoices. At first glance, everything was flawless. But her sharp eye caught discrepancies. Payments to “Cyber-Systems Ltd.” were rounded to whole thousandseither laziness or an attempt to hide true figures.
Vague descriptions”consultation services,” “analytical support,” “process optimization”classic money-laundering tricks she recognized from the nineties.
Hours later, the door creaked open. A nervous-eyed girl stood in the doorway.
“Good afternoon. Im Lena, from accounting. Olivia said you were here Thought you might need help with the digital system?”
Not a trace of condescension in her voice.
“Thank you, Lena. Thats very kind.”
“Oh, its no trouble. They just well, they forget not everyone was born with a tablet in hand.” Lena blushed.
As Lena patiently explained the software, Elizabeth thought even a swamp had its clear springs.
Before Lena could leave, Stan barged in.
“I need the Cyber-Systems contract. Now.” He spoke like he was barking at a servant.
“Good afternoon,” Elizabeth said calmly. “Im reviewing these documents. Give me a moment.”
“A moment? I dont have a moment. Ive got a call in five. Why isnt this digitized? What do you even do here?”
His arrogance was his weakness. He was certain no oneleast of all this old womanwould dare or be able to scrutinize his work.
“Its my first day,” she replied evenly. “And Im fixing what wasnt done before me.”
“I dont care!” He snatched the folder from the desk. “You old people are nothing but trouble.”
He stormed out, slamming the door. Elizabeth didnt watch him leave. Shed seen enough.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her personal lawyer.
“Archibald, good afternoon. Look into a company for meCyber-Systems Ltd. Something tells me the ownership will be interesting.”
The next morning, her phone buzzed.
“Elizabeth, you were right. Cyber-Systems is a shell company. Registered to a certain Mr. Petersonwho happens to be Stans cousin. Textbook fraud.”
“Thank you, Archibald. Thats all I needed to know.”
The climax came after lunch. The weekly staff meeting had everyone gathered. Olivia beamed as she announced another milestone.
“Oh, I forgot to print the conversion report. Elizabeth,” she said into the mic, her voice laced with icy amusement, “be a dear and fetch the Q4 folder from the archive. Try not to get lost.”
The room tittered. Elizabeth rose calmly. The point of no return was behind her.
She returned minutes later. Stan stood beside Olivia, whispering eagerly.
“Here comes our savior!” Stan announced with false warmth. “Work faster next time. Time is money. Especially our money.”
That word*our*was the final straw.
Elizabeth straightened. Her stoop vanished. Her gaze turned sharp and unyielding.
“Youre right, Stanley. Time *is* money. Particularly the money funneled through Cyber-Systems. Care to explain why that project benefited you more than the company?”
Stans smirk faltered. “I I dont know what youre”
“No? Then enlighten us allwho is Mr. Peterson to you?”
A suffocating silence fell. Olivia tried to intervene.
“Excuse me, what business does this *employee* have with company finances?”
Elizabeth didnt even glance at her. Slowly, she circled the table and stood at the head of the room.
“Every business. Allow me to introduce myself. Elizabeth Hawthorne. The new owner of this company.”
A grenade would have been less shocking.
“Stanley,” she continued, her voice glacial, “youre fired. My lawyers will be in touch with you and your cousin. Id advise you not to leave town.”
Stan crumpled into his chair like a deflated balloon.
“You, Olivia, are also fired. For incompetence and fostering a toxic workplace.”
Olivia flushed. “How *dare* you”
“I have every right.” Elizabeth cut her off. “You have an hour to clear your desks. Security will escort you out.”
She scanned the room. “That includes the receptionist and two others from development. Age is no excuse for disrespect.”
The shock was palpable.
“In the coming days, this company will undergo a full audit.”
Her eyes landed on Lena, standing at the back.
“Lena, step forward, please.”
The girl trembled as she approached.
“In two days, youve shown more professionalism and decency than anyone here. Im forming a new internal controls team. I want you on it.”
Lena gaped, speechless.
“Youll do well,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Noweveryone but the firedback to work. The day isnt over.”
She turned and left, leaving a shattered world of arrogance behind her.
She felt no triumph. Only the cold satisfaction of a job well done. To build a strong house, you first clear the rot.
And she had just begun her demolition.
