Chapter 2 - Forty-Seven Envelopes
I did not fire forty-seven people because they insulted me.
That would have been stupid.
And illegal.
I had spent seventeen years building Whitaker Construction.
I wasn't going to burn it down because my father-in-law hurt my pride.
So Rebecca Shaw, our general counsel, spent Christmas Day reviewing everything.
Performance records.
Employment agreements.
Expense reports.
Attendance.
Procurement approvals.
Company vehicles.
Vendor relationships.
Nepotism disclosures.
By midnight, she called me.
“Daniel.”
“How bad?”
“Worse than I expected.”
Martin had been protecting relatives for years.
Seventeen had performance deficiencies serious enough for termination.
Nine had falsified time records.
Six had company vehicles being used almost exclusively for personal purposes.
Four appeared to have undisclosed vendor conflicts.
Others were merely overpaid and mediocre.
Then Rebecca paused.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Martin has been approving consulting payments to Collins Strategic Services.”
I frowned.
“Never heard of it.”
“You shouldn't have.”
The company had received $618,000 from Whitaker Construction over twenty-two months.
Owner?
Linda Collins.
My mother-in-law.
No disclosed conflict.
No meaningful work product.
My stomach tightened.
“Who approved the invoices?”
“Martin.”
Of course.
“And Claire?”
Silence.
That silence mattered.
“Rebecca.”
“Claire countersigned three.”
I leaned back.
My wife knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
Three days after Christmas, termination and suspension notices went out.
Not forty-seven identical firings.
Seventeen immediate terminations.
Thirteen administrative suspensions pending investigation.
The rest received compensation restructuring and formal performance reviews.
But forty-seven envelopes arrived.
At 10:04 a.m., Martin called.
I watched his name flash on my phone.
Ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Then Claire.
Ignored.
Then my brother-in-law Tyler.
Ignored.
Finally Sophie entered my office carrying hot chocolate.
“Grandpa posted something.”
She showed me her phone.
Martin had written:
After years of service, our entire family has been targeted by cowardly corporate leadership.
I almost smiled.
He still didn't know.
At 10:31, Rebecca called an emergency employee meeting.
Martin arrived furious.
So did twenty-three Collins relatives.
He slammed his termination notice onto the conference table.
“I want the CEO.”
Rebecca folded her hands.
“He’s coming.”
Martin laughed.
“Good.”
The conference-room doors opened.
I walked in.
Work boots.
Jeans.
Gray coat.
Silence spread slowly across the room.
Martin stared.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I walked to the head of the table.
Removed my coat.
Sat in the CEO’s chair.
Then Rebecca placed the corporate ownership documents in front of me.
Martin stopped breathing.
I looked directly at him.
“You asked to speak to the owner.”
Claire had followed him inside.
The divorce papers were still visible inside her handbag.
Her face went white.
May you like
I folded my hands.
“So talk.”
