Chapter 128: TO GET RID OF A CLOG IN HER WHEEL
AUTHOR’S POV
Gina Wolfe set the phone down on her thick bed covers with more force than was necessary.
"The nerve of that boy," she hissed, leaning against the headboard of her bed.
Behind her small back were pillows, propping her up and straight as she sat in bed. The silk of her nightgown cool against her shoulders, and with her lips twisted in rage she reached for the small button on her bedside table and slamd it down.
Footsteps echoed in the slightly empty mansion. Only she and her housekeeper lived in the huge Wolfe mansion that used to be filled with hustling and bustling when her dear husband was still alive.
She had him, she had her twin boys, and she had been in control of the Corporation. It was after her husband’s death that it all went downhill.
Martha appeared at the bedroom door, her grey hair tucked in a bun behind her. She had on an old brown nightdress that draped her frail fra.
"Get
my chamomile tea," Gina ordered. "I can’t sleep a wink all thanks to that boy!"
"Yes ma’am," Martha disappeared without a word while Gina smoothed the covers over her lap, her son’s arrogant words replaying in her head.
How much lower did she have to go? He had dared ask her that?
She almost laughed. Oh it wasn’t his fault. It was that obnoxious girl!
The other assistants had been considerably less complicated. The ones who took the money said nothing and delivered her information she needed.
Without a single hassle, or the ones who tried to cause a hassle found out the hard way that she was not to be ssed with.
The ones who refused and well it was just two of them, they kept their mouths shut. Of course they did, they were probably afraid that
Finnegan wouldn’t believe them or Gina would find out and make them regret it.
What was the girl’s na again? Abigail?
"Such an irritating na for an irritating girl," Gina huffed, curling her lips in disgust. She should have known that girl would be trouble the very day the chit had spoken back to her.
She had not only refused the money but had apparently gone on reporting Gina to her son. It was insulting on so many levels, it made her the skin of the Wolfe matriarch crawl with disgust and anger.
And then there was the decorator business. The girl had sniffed out that sothing was up.
How could she have done that? She had walked through that office door at exactly the wrong mont, Darren had barely had ti to get out of the chair.
"All that work I put in almost got wasted by her," Gina snapped, wanting to hurl the device at the wall, picturing it was the dark haired girl.
Martha returned with a cup of tea on a small tray. Gina took the cup, wrapping both hands around its warmth, and let the first sip roll down her throat, easing the anger slowly.
"Much better," she sighed and shooed the housekeeper out of her room with her hands.
Martha bowed her head slightly and scurried out of the room, closing the mistress door behind her.
She knew the boy that her mistress had been referring to earlier was Finnegan. He was the only Wolfe boy left afterall. She had been in the family ever since the boys were little and had watched a family that was so complete slowly die off to beco a shell of itself.
With a sigh, she cast one wistful look at the door to Gina’s room and shook her head.
It was all her fault.
Gina, unaware of her judging housekeeper, seethed over Darren getting caught by Abigail.
She had been planning to get access to Finnegan’s office for weeks and the interview had been the perfect excuse-Get the decorators to work while her man installed the program in Finnegan’s system and covered up her tracks before Finnegan found out all that she had been working on for years.
That boy was as paranoid as his father. He guarded everything, questioned everything, noticed discrepancies in docunts like a hawk. It was his best quality and his most inconvenient one.
He had always been that way. Even as a boy, too observant, too principled, too eager to understand the reasoning behind her every rule before he followed it. His father had adored him for it.
But what about her precious Devin? Apparently her husband hadn’t cared.
The reading of his will after his death had been the final insult that had nailed her hatred for Finnegan.
He had two sons but he made his preference very clear and had handed Wolfe Corp to Finnegan. What about Devin? He died and left her to take care of the consequences.
Gina abandoned the tea, irritated by the mories of the past that plagued her.
Wolfe Corp was hers. She and her husband had built it from nothing. She would not watch it be handed to a man too stubborn to accept guidance even if he were her son.
He could keep the title as the CEO. What she wanted was the power to run it all and she had the perfect plan in place.
She had been treading carefully for years because Finnegan was too perceptive and would figure her out if she made a little mistake, so she moved slowly.
It was hard enough trying to outsmart Finnegan, but now she had to contend with his assistant?
She set the cup down on the bedside, picked up the phone and scrolled to a number
"Have my goods arrived?" she asked when the line connected.
"Yes ma’am." A voice replied from the other end. "It will be delivered soon."
"Good, deliver it in Wolfe’s na, as usual."
"Yes, Ma’am."
"There’s sothing else, I need you to look into soone." She smoothed the covers over her lap again, her eyes fixed on the image of her son, Devin, his green eyes glinting at her from the wall. "Finnegan’s assistant,"
If Abigail was going to be irritating, buzzing like a housefly into things that weren’t her business, Gina Wolfe had a fly swatter. Houseflies were easy to get rid of, weren’t they?
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