Chapter 17- Pressure from Within

Genevieve did not speak for the first five minutes when she stepped into her car after leaving the restaurant. Helena sat beside her in the backseat, quiet and observant, while the driver kept his eyes on the road. The security vehicle followed behind.

Genevieve rested her elbow lightly against the door and stared ahead, but she wasn’t seeing the city. She was seeing Dominic. The way he had looked at her when she walked into the lounge. The way he had tested her with Senator Franklin’s name. The way he had said, “I know a lot of things, Mrs. Holloway.”

And most of all—when he said, "Be careful. It’s not as simple as you think."

It didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a warning.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the handle of her bag. Dominic Rourke was not a man who wasted his words. If he had canceled his contract with Charles before his death, then he had seen something coming. Something that Charles had ignored.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?” Helena asked softly.

Genevieve blinked and shifted her gaze toward her assistant. “Yes,” Genevieve replied evenly. “Just thinking.”

Helena nodded; she didn’t press further. Genevieve knew something had changed. The meeting had not given her answers. It had given her confirmation. She was not walking into a messy corporation. She was walking into a carefully constructed battlefield.

And someone had already mapped it out. 

---

By the time they arrived back at the Holloway Group headquarters, Genevieve’s posture had straightened. Her face was composed again, calm and deliberate.

As soon as she stepped into her office, Helena followed.

“The financial manager and the production manager are already waiting in Conference Room B,” Helena informed her.

“Good,” Genevieve said, placing her bag on her desk. She headed for the conference room immediately.

The conference room smelled faintly of polished wood and coffee. Two men stood up immediately as she entered. Mr. Lawson, the company’s financial manager, looked pale, and the production manager, Mr. Iqbal, held a folder tightly against his chest.

"Good day, gentlemen." Genevieve greeted them as she entered. “Sit,” she instructed them. They did, and she took her seat at the head of the table.

“Let’s start with finance.”

Mr. Lawson cleared his throat and opened his laptop. “Over the last six months, revenue from the shopping complexes has declined by nearly eighteen percent. But that’s not the most concerning part.”

Genevieve folded her hands on the table. “Go on.”

“There have been… reallocations.”

Her eyes sharpened. “Reallocations?”

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. “Funds categorized under logistics and maintenance have been moved, but when we tried to trace the receiving accounts, they led to intermediary vendors' accounts that don’t appear in our primary supplier registry.”

Her jaw tightened. “How much?” she asked calmly.

“Approximately 4.2 million dollars in the last seven months."

The room went quiet. Four million dollars did not disappear by accident.

“And these vendors were approved by whom?"

Lawson hesitated. “The authorization codes were issued under executive clearance.”

Executive clearance. It was Charles. Genevieve’s expression did not change.

“Continue,” she said.

Lawson swallowed. “The pattern suggests the funds were being siphoned gradually. Whoever was behind it knew exactly how to avoid raising any suspicions.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “We will be conducting a full internal audit on the shopping complexes. I need a detailed report on the cash inflow and outflow on all the shopping complexes in the last year. This should be done discreetly; no emails should be sent or announcements made, only verbal directives. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned to Mr. Iqbal. “Report on the factory's production.”

He shifted forward. “There has been a drop in product quality. Two of our primary raw material suppliers were replaced about four months ago.”

“Replaced by who?”

“It was an executive-level directive.”

“Why was I not informed about this?”

“It happened before you became CEO,” he said carefully.

“And the new suppliers?”

“They have been supplying low-grade materials that require higher maintenance costs.”

Genevieve inhaled slowly. Charles hadn’t just been making political deals. He had been making decisions that were affecting the company itself. She wondered why he made such decisions, but she couldn't figure out any reason.

“Contact our original suppliers and sign a new contract with them,” she ordered. “Terminate the contracts we have with the new suppliers. I want a report concerning this by tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

When the meeting ended and the men left, Genevieve returned to her office. She immediately sent for Helena.

Genevieve walked toward the large windows in her office and looked at the city. 

“Helena,” she said without turning around, “update me on Senator Matthew.”

Helena stepped closer. “We’re running into resistance, ma'am.”

Genevieve glanced back at her.

“Most of his assets are hidden,” Helena continued. “We could not get the details of the assets. I think someone powerful is shielding him.”

“Like a political shielding?”

“Most likely, ma'am. Possibly someone powerful in the financial sector.”

Genevieve’s mind moved quickly. Dominic knew about the shopping complex decline before it went public. He knew about Senator Franklin and about Senator Matthew. And he had canceled his contract before Charles died. There was definitely something fishy going on behind the scenes, and she had to find out.

“Dig deeper,” Genevieve said quietly. “But be careful; do not leave any traces.”

Helena nodded. “Understood.”

After Helena left, Genevieve sat alone. The silence in the office was heavy. Her encrypted phone vibrated. It was a message from Celeste.

Celeste: Meeting by 8PM this evening at the townhouse. Don’t be late.

It was not a request. It was more like a summon.

Genevieve stared at the message for a few seconds before she responded.

Then she typed one word.

Genevieve: Understood.

---

The Widow’s Club met in the same private townhouse they usually have their meetings in. 

When Genevieve entered, all side conversations stopped. Celeste sat at the center of the table, elegant as always, dressed in a cream-colored suit. Three other widows were present. Genevievee did not recognize them. 

“Genevieve,” Celeste greeted with a soft smile. “You look radiant.”

Genevieve inclined her head slightly. “Thank you, I could say the same about you." She turned to the other ladies. "Good evening, ladies.” She greeted them and took her seat. They nodded at her, acknowledging her greeting.

“How was your lunch with Mr. Rourke?” Celeste asked casually. Straight to the point.

“It was productive,” Genevieve replied evenly.

“In what way?”

“He confirmed some information regarding my Charles’s political dealings.”

A flicker of interest crossed Celeste’s eyes. “And?”

“And he said he knows more than I think he knows.”

Celeste’s smile thinned slightly. “Of course he does.”

One of the other widows leaned forward. “Did he seem cooperative?”

Genevieve chose her words carefully. “Dominic Rourke is not a cooperative man. He is very calculative.”

Silence settled briefly. Celeste tapped her nails against the arm of her chair. “We need you to infiltrate him completely.”

“And that's what I'm trying to do," Genevieve responded calmly.

“You need to increase your pace. His connections interfere with some individuals we are watching; when you infiltrate him, you would be able to convince him to allow us access to those individuals.”

Genevieve felt irritation stir beneath her composure. “He is not a pawn,” she said quietly.

Celeste’s eyes sharpened. “Everyone is something, dear. And in this game, he is a pawn.”

The tension in the room increased.

Celeste leaned slightly forward. “You have access to him through Olandria. Use that to infiltrate him.”

Genevieve’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. “Olandria is a child.”

“And children are often the most effective when it comes to things like this,” one widow said coldly.

Something inside Genevieve snapped—just slightly. “Olandria is not to be used,” she said firmly. “I already told you that I'm not going to use her.”

The room went still. Celeste studied her.

“You are becoming emotionally invested,” Celeste observed.

“No,” Genevieve replied. “I am setting boundaries.”

The room was quiet.

Finally, Celeste smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Very well,” she said lightly. “But do not forget why you are here. The Club expects progress.”

Genevieve met her gaze without flinching. “And you will see it.”

---

Immediately the meeting ended, and Genvieve headed out of the building, and she met Delilah at the entrance.

“Walk with me,” Delilah murmured.

"Didn't you see my message?" Genevieve asked immediately they started walking.

"I did." Delilah replied evenly.

"So why didn't you respond?"

“Celeste sent me to handle something." She said quietly.

Genevieve wanted to ask more questions about what she had to handle but she held herself back. "How did it go?"

"It went well; I heard everything that happened in the meeting room," Delilah said, changing the topic almost immediately. "You handled everything well," she said.

“Celeste wants everything about Dominic,” Genevieve replied quietly.

“She wants leverage.”

Genevieve looked at her. “Do you trust her?”

Delilah hesitated. “I trust the structure the club is built on,” she said slowly. “Not the people in it.”

Genevieve was quiet.

“Be careful,” Delilah said softly. “The pressure for you to increase your pace is intentional.”

Genevieve exhaled slowly and nodded. It looked like the battlefield wasn’t just outside. It was everywhere.

---

When she returned home that night, she poured herself a drink and stood near the window looking outside. She was lost in her thought.

Senator Matthew was being shielded by someone powerful.

Funds were being siphoned from the company.

The Widow’s Club was applying pressure on her.

And Dominic Rourke knew far more than she thought he knew.

Everyone thought she was still adjusting to this new world. Still learning about it, but they were wrong.

Genevieve lifted her phone and called Helena.

“Yes, ma’am?” she answered after the third ring.

“I want the company's investors' data, including vendors and factory product suppliers from the past eighteen months. I need it on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The call ended, and she set the phone down. She got lost in her thoughts again.