"Secretary Finch has been instrumental to this company. She's closed deal after deal. She made one honest remark, and you threw coffee in her face."
"Exactly. Frankly, that kind of behavior is... unsettling."
Their accusations poured fuel on Beulah's fire. She straightened up, chin lifted, radiating the smug confidence of someone who believed she was untouchable.
"You hear that, Olive? If you don't want this company to lose its most valuable asset, you'd better walk over here, bow that stiff spine of yours, and apologize to me. Nicely. Humbly."
I listened to every word.
Then, instead of doing a single thing she demanded, I picked up my phone and called my assistant.
"Notify payroll. I want Beulah Finch's final wages calculated immediately."
Beulah shot out of her chair like she'd been electrocuted. "Olive, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
I leaned back against my chair, my tone cool and unhurried. "You're fired."
The color drained from her face. She wasn't scared. She was furious—so furious she could barely form words.
"What? You think you can fire me?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
Beulah charged toward me, jabbing a finger inches from my nose.