Chapter Text
Oliver was late getting to the Domodedovo Airport. He’d told Diggle to take Felicity and Lyla. Andrei would drive them all, and Oliver would meet them on the tarmac, but minutes before they were scheduled to take off, everyone was settled in their seats, and he still wasn’t there.
“Do you think something happened?” Felicity asked Diggle.
“Unlikely,” Dig said. “He’d call, unless there was an accident or the police–,” he stopped, seeing Felicity’s face. “But Oliver’s very good at getting himself out of trouble. Even in Russia. And it’s not like he’s alone here. He’s got the Br–” he stopped himself again.
“He’s got the Bratva,” Felicity finished for him. Really, did they think she was dumb? After all of this time watching her uncover and decipher hundreds of secrets. “He was stranded on an island for five years. How exactly did he make Bratva connections?”
Diggle gave her a steady look. “That’s none of my business,” he said.
“That’s what you’re going with?” she said. “Not my circus, not my monkeys?”
“Exactly,” he said. “You married him. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”
“Johnny,” Lyla said.
“Yes, I did,” she said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
The door to the jet opened, and Oliver lurched in carrying an enormous trunk on his shoulder. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “It took awhile for me to get through Customs.” He maneuvered the black leather box through the narrow passage and then wheeled it to the back of the passenger area.
“What’s in the box?” Diggle asked.
Oliver’s lips quirked. “A surprise for later,” he said cryptically.
Felicity stared at the trunk. It was very wide with steel latches and hinges and a large lock. She slanted a look at Oliver. “Is it a puppy?”
Oliver’s eyes sparked in memory. “It is not a puppy,” he said, smiling. “We’ll open it when we get home.”
Lyla looked curious, but Diggle merely sighed and asked, “What’s next, then?”
Oliver sat down in one of the open seats and pulled off his gloves. “Well, if Felicity’s trap works and we get a bit of luck, Isabel will not make the Tuesday night board meeting.”
Diggle looked at Felicity with interest. “What did you do?”
“I might have erased her digital Immigration record,” Felicity said.
“I didn’t hear that,” Lyla said.
“She’s not a citizen, if you can believe it,” Felicity said. “So she may experience some trouble reentering the country.”
Diggle smiled widely. “Good for you. She has it coming.”
“That and so much more,” Felicity said. “And she’s going to get it.”
“We’re going to present the evidence we have that Isabel was spying on us in Moscow to the board,” Oliver said. “We’ve put together a few other things to show them as well.”
“She came on to Oliver in the hotel lounge,” Felicity said.
Diggle’s eyes went to Oliver’s, and he nodded. “We have the hotel security footage.”
“And after she called you a slut on the plane ride over,” Diggle said, shaking his head.
“She called you a slut?” Lyla asked. “That’s so…gross and unprofessional. She’s the CEO. It seems like she would be smarter about workplace harassment, since she’s gotten so far in her career in such a short time.”
Felicity could see she and Lyla were on the same page about Isabel’s rapid professional advancement. She darted a glance at Oliver. “Isabel started her career at QC sleeping with Oliver’s father,” she said with a grimace. “Unfortunately, hypocrisy is not her worst trait. And she hates Oliver, so I don’t know what that pass was about.” She flashed a smile at him. “Not that you’re not cute, honey.”
He gave her an amused look, the soft one she was coming to like so much.
“Keep your enemies closer,” Lyla said. “She wanted him under her thumb and unsuspecting.”
“Unsuspecting of what?” Diggle asked.
“Whatever she has planned. She’s already attempted a hostile takeover. Clearly she has revenge fantasies.”
“But she’s CEO now,” Oliver said. “What else does she want?”
Lyla looked thoughtful. “When she left Queen Consolidated before, how ugly was it?”
Felicity exchanged a look with Oliver. They’d both reviewed the old footage that had somehow, inexplicably, survived for almost a decade. Someone in IT must have hated Isabel back in the day. “Pretty ugly. I dug up the security video a few weeks ago. Apparently, Robert had Walter engineer their breakup by ejecting her from the building with her belongings. She made a huge scene in the lobby crying and screaming.”
Lyla wrinkled her nose. “That’s…not good. She has a justified grudge, then, and it looks like she’s spent years planning her revenge. If she hates Oliver and she still tried to seduce him, she’s got plans beyond taking over QC.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “What else are you planning for the board meeting?” Diggle finally asked.
“We haven’t decided if we are going to ask the board to censure Isabel or remove her,” Oliver said. “We’ll have to see how receptive they are. She’s probably been bribing them for their votes. Almost half of them are Stellmoor appointees now.”
Lyla’s eyebrows rose.
“I did some research into her financials,” Felicity said. “They’re pretty clean, but there was one transaction between Isabel and a company called Stroke of Fortune, Ltd. in May. They deposited $100,000 in an off-shore account. Most of that money was transferred out in smaller amounts right before Isabel was made CEO.”
“And you know this how?” Lyla asked. She shook her head. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m going to focus on being grateful you pulled me out of Koshmar.”
“Obviously, we can’t tell the board that we have this information,” Felicity said, “since we did not exactly acquire it legally and it implicates numerous board members past and present.”
“How many board members do you think are untouched and will vote in QC’s best interest?” Lyla asked.
“There are twelve of them total,” Oliver said. “Five are new and have previous connections to Stellmoor.”
“But having your co-CEO followed and photographed and videotaping him without his knowledge or consent in his private hotel room are pretty egregious ethics violations,” Felicity said. “Not to mention the seduction attempt. That should mean something to the rest of them.”
“How bad is the video? Can you show it to the board?” Lyla asked.
Felicity felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “Not too ba–”
“It’s kinda hot,” Oliver said. “There’s this part where Felicity grabs my tie…”
“But no clothes come off,” Felicity interrupted him. “You could air it on primetime. NOT that I want that to happen.” She glanced at Oliver. “We just look like we’re…going to have a romantic evening.”
“The tie thing might be too hot for primetime,” Oliver said. “You were all over me.” He winked at her.
“Okay,” Diggle said. “We get the picture.”
“Well, you’d better be ready for anything. Isabel sounds unstable,” Lyla said briskly. “You don’t want to attack and then give her an entire month still sitting as CEO to make her countermove.”
“I agree,” Oliver said.
“‘You come at the king, you best not miss,’” Diggle said.
Felicity chuckled. “That’s from The Wire. You said you didn’t watch it.”
“I said I’m not talking about The Wire with you,” Diggle said. “Not that I never watched it. Of course I watched it. It’s classic television.”
“Well, it’s good advice,” she said. “We’ll just have to be careful with our aim, so Isabel never sees it coming. Good thing I’m married to an archer now.”
Felicity grinned at both of them, and Oliver and Diggle simultaneously groaned.
>>--->
Reporters were camped outside of Felicity’s apartment building even in the middle of the night, so they drove to the Queen mansion, and Oliver carried in their luggage. Felicity wiped the slush off of her shoes on the mat in the cavernous front hall and followed him up the stairs, watching the muscles in his back strain against the navy wool fabric of his peacoat. He always looked so good carrying things that she almost wished she had packed more, but her luggage already made a decent size pile in the middle of his bedroom.
“This,” he said, hefting the trunk down off his shoulder, “is for you. From Zhenya.”
“From Zhenya?”
“Yes. She thought that since you’d be stepping into the public eye, you might need a few new wardrobe pieces, so she put these together.”
New clothes. That sounded very promising. Felicity liked clothes. She knelt down on the oriental rug and turned the trunk so it was front facing. She unfastened both of the large metal latches, opened the box, and drew in a sizable breath.
The inside of the trunk was divided into two sections: six canvas drawers on one side, and a compartment for hanging clothes on the other. Six hangers of beautifully made clothing hung from a short pole, including two suits in cobalt and magenta, two dresses, and what looked like a dark red, floor-length evening gown. The bottom of the gown was carefully rolled so that it would not crease.
It was hard to take it all in, there was so much to look at. “This is all for me?” she asked.
Oliver nodded. “For you. Who else?” He smiled. “Do you like it?”
Did she like it? It was amazing. Like a matryoshka doll, the trunk delivered new surprises with every part she opened. The canvas drawers held silk blouses in white, blush, and periwinkle, a long black pencil skirt, a belted flared maxi skirt in emerald green, a black boat-neck sweater with belled sleeves, a silk shawl with a Russian print, an ivory lace peignoir set, and biscuit colored knee-high Christian Louboutin boots. In the last drawer, there was a tan Hermes Birkin bag with a gold clasp and a tiny lock and key.
“Ooh,” Felicity said, “That is a very nice bag. It’s maybe large enough for a laptop.”
Felicity caressed the front of the bag tentatively, tracing her fingers over the fine-grained leather and the coolness of the gold turn-lock closure. It was extravagantly fine.
Oliver knelt down beside her. “Look inside,” he said.
Tucked in the bag was a small jewelry box with the name of the store that her ring had come from: Kalina. She opened the box, and pulled out a smaller, hinged box and levered that open. Resting there on the black velvet were a pair of ruby-and-diamond hooped earrings. The color of the rubies matched her ring exactly. She held out her hand to check.
“Zhenya didn’t buy this,” Felicity said, tabulating the lavish expense of this gift in her head. There was no way Zhenya had paid for even a fraction of what was in this trunk. Felicity was sadly unfamiliar with very high-end shopping, but the price tag for all of these beautiful clothes - let alone the jewelry - had to be astronomical.
“Well, no,” Oliver said. “I told her to choose a few things for you to wear to do press in when we got back. Her boutique has a number of important clients. I knew she would understand what you’ll need.”
He nodded at the earrings. “And I went back for those. They’re a wedding gift.” His lips twitched. “Happy wedding.”
A hollow sort of feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She thought of her mother and hoped he didn’t think… “You know you don’t have to buy me all of this, right?” she asked. “I realize you have a lot of money. A lot of money.” She swallowed. “But that’s not why…that’s not why I married you.”
Oliver cocked his head at her. “Why did you marry me?” he asked in a tone that was light but did not match his intent gaze.
Because I love you. The thought came to her unbidden, insistent, and Felicity knew it was true and had been true for a long time. She’d forbidden it to herself, dismissed it, but no matter how much she hadn’t wanted to be that girl, the one in love with her boss, the gorgeous billionaire vigilante, she did love him. Rather desperately.
Her love had been absurd, cliché, impossible, so she had denied it any encouragement, but it had lived anyway, somehow, and grown and blossomed deep inside her. Like a stupid, stubborn weed.
Oliver’s eyes were round and questioning, his gaze soft. She wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know how much he had come to mean to her. How he inspired her and how knowing him and working with him had brought meaning to her life that she hadn’t known she needed.
But she was afraid. If she told him how she felt, would he pity her? She was only one of probably hundreds of girls who had fallen for Oliver in his short lifetime. Sara, Laurel, the woman he always dropped everything to help. They kept cropping up too, like this Zhenya who had put together such a carefully curated wedding gift for her - out of love for Oliver?
She smiled at him and deflected. “You know I can’t say no to you.”
He snorted. “You say no a hundred times a day. ‘Oliver, I’m not making you coffee. Make it yourself.’ ‘I refuse to put that in this report. Come up with something better.’ ‘Don’t even think about wearing those boots without getting them resoled. You’ll kill yourself jumping off a building.’” He raised both eyebrows comically. “Do any of these sound familiar?”
“Yes, well,” she said, “I guess because your proposal was so romantic - ‘It will help my mom, Felicity, if you pretend to be knocked up’ - I got swept off my feet.”
“Oh,” he said, laughing, leaning his weight back on both arms, “so now we’re judging my proposal technique.”
“It was pretty bad,” Felicity echoed his laugh. “Not exactly: ‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.’” Then she realized she had veered hard into dangerous territory with her Mr. Darcy reference.
He stilled, and she felt his focus sharpen to a point. “If I’d said, ‘I love you,’ you would have wanted to hear that?” he asked softly.
“I mean,” she tittered, “only if…” She bit her lip. “I know this is new, and I don’t expect…I guess every girl just wants the movie proposal,” she finished lamely. “Or in this case, the book. Pride and Prejudice was a book first, you know.”
His lips quirked. “I know,” he said, “That one I do know. Every girl loves it. My mom loves it. Thea was obsessed with the movie. Although I don’t really get the appeal of Mr. Darcy.”
She took the out he was offering gratefully. “He’s amazing. The hand flex scene is so romantic. It’s because Darcy is completely closed off, grim and utterly controlled, but he’s powerless against his feelings for Lizzie because she’s so smart, independent, funny, and kind.”
“Smart, independent, funny, and kind,” he repeated with a thoughtful look. “That’s a powerful combination. No wonder he’s a goner.”
He reached across her and thumbed through the hangers in the trunk. “Zhenya did make the dress,” he said. “She worked on it for months, doing the embroidery. She’s been sewing knock-off couture for extra money for years, but this is her own creation. She said she was waiting for the right client to offer it to. I guess that’s you.”
Felicity carefully pulled out the garments on their hangers: the suits, a black cocktail dress and a green dress trimmed in gold and black that would be appropriate for day or night.
Behind those, hanging elegantly on its wooden hanger, was a wine red, off-the-shoulder, floor-length velvet evening gown. Detailed silk embroidery of leaves and flowers covered the neckline and the abbreviated sleeves. The craftsmanship of the stitching alone was breathtaking. A work of art.
It was the crowning piece of what Felicity realized amounted to a trousseau. “How do you know Zhenya?” she heard herself ask.
Oliver opened his mouth and then closed it, seeming to realize the risk. “She’s a friend.” He looked directly at Felicity. “Really. It’s a long story.”
“I have time,” Felicity said. “We don’t have to be at work for another,” she picked up her phone, “six hours.”
Oliver looked a bit mulish, as he often did when anyone pressed him about his lost five years. Felicity wondered if she would ever know anything close to the true story of his long ordeal.
“You were in Russia for part of the time you were away,” she said. “Obviously. And that’s when you met her.”
That surprised him. He raised one eyebrow, the slightly crooked one. “Well,” he said slowly, “yes.”
“I’m not stupid, Oliver,” Felicity said. “You speak Russian. You have a Russian mobster friend who is willing to do very large favors for you. And this woman, Zhenya, also seems to be available to help when called upon.”
“She’s just a friend,” he said quickly. “Things never got romantic between us. She doesn’t even like men.”
“She likes women?” Felicity asked.
“Not really,” Oliver said. “We never talked about it. I think she just wants to be left alone.”
She waited for him to continue, and he sighed. “When I met Zhenya, she was involved with an abusive asshole named Pavel Petrovich. He’s a fairly successful biznessman in Krasnoyarsk. Unfortunately, when Pavel Petrovich tires of a woman, he likes to humiliate her on the way out. I stepped in and protected her a little. If I hadn’t, she would have been fair game for any of his associates. Like I said, we’re friends. I helped her out, and she was happy to return the favor when we were in Moscow.”
Felicity had about fourteen more questions she would have liked to ask about Zhenya and their relationship, but she could tell that’s all she’d get out of Oliver. It did not sound like they’d been lovers, though. Zhenya had included that peignoir in the trunk which was not something a lovelorn ex would usually do.
“That’s all I wanted to know,” she lied. “Thank you for telling me.”
Oliver looked relieved. “Why don’t you try it on?” he asked. “I know Zhenya was excited to give it to you. I’ll take a photo and send it to her. Wear the earrings too. They’ll match the dress.”
She shook her head. “Oliver, after sixteen hours of travel, I look like a sack of potatoes. I’ll try it on in the morning, and you can take pictures then. I’ll put on the earrings, though. They’re beautiful. The red of the rubies is so striking.” She removed the hoops from the small box, and threaded the gold rods through the holes in her earlobes. “There,” she said. “How do I look?”
“Not like a sack of potatoes,” Oliver said. He glanced over his shoulder. “I think we need to test out this bed.”
Felicity smiled. “We’ve had sex in your bed. Multiple times. Plenty of times.”
“Who’s counting?” Oliver said. “Besides, we’re on our honeymoon. There’s a rule that you have to have sex every eight hours for the first week, and it’s been a whole day at least now, with the travel.” He stuck his lower lip out the tiniest fraction.
He was so ridiculous. “There’s a rule,” she said.
“I can’t believe you don’t know about it,” he said. “You’re usually so up to date on everything.”
She leaned forward on her arms and kissed him, a soft kiss that turned into a smile. “That was a pretty romantic gesture,” she said, nodding at the trunk. “A bridal trousseau, just like Elizabeth Bennet would have, only nicer. I love those boots.”
“You like it, huh?”
“I like it,” she said. Her smile widened. “I like it a lot.”
He stood up and extended his arm to her on the floor. With a rather haughty expression, he said, “‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you.”
She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “You do know Mr. Darcy.”
He relaxed his features and shrugged. “My mom is a huge fan of Jane Austen. There have been marathons that I have been forced to watch.” He put his finger up to his mouth in the universal shhh hand sign. “She prefers the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, though; the one with the guy from The King’s Speech. Anyway, yes, I do know Mr. Darcy.”
“I love Mr. Darcy,” Felicity said.
“All the Queen women do,” he said. “It must be the brooding. I hear that’s very sexy.”
>>--->
The next day was a blur of activity. They had so much work that had piled up during their trip that Oliver felt like all he did for eight straight hours was read and sign his name wherever Felicity pointed. Fortunately, Isabel was still conspicuously absent. He hoped that she was locked up somewhere in Stuttgart or that she’d dropped off the face of the earth.
Late in the day, Diggle brought their attention to another breaking news report on the Starling City Rapist. “There’s a new victim, not like the others,” he said. Felicity brought up the WEBG website. In the Breaking News section there was a video with a female reporter standing in front of the Coleson Chemistry Building on Starling University’s campus. Felicity pushed play.
“This is Ashley Andrews with WEBG Starling City 7,” the woman said, “and I’m reporting from Starling University where another woman was attacked by the Starling City Rapist at tonight’s award ceremony.” She turned to the man standing beside her. He was wearing coveralls with the university’s insignia on them. “This is Tim Hoyt, an SU employee who works in the Chemistry Building. He was present during the attack. What did you see?”
“Nothing of the attacker, unfortunately,” Hoyt said. “He sprayed Ellen Phillips, the wife of the head of the Chemistry Department. She had received a text that her car was being towed for being illegally parked, and ran out to intervene. I was outside fixing one of the steps when I heard her scream and went over to help.”
“It was the Starling City Rapist?” Ashley asked him.
“I think so. She started acting very oddly right away. Very aggressive.” He looked uncomfortable. “I had to call security, and they subdued her and took her to the hospital in an ambulance.”
“The hospital won’t know what to do with her, poor woman,” Felicity said.
On the screen Ashley Andrews looked confused. “The rapist didn’t leave with her?”
“No, he sprayed her and left, that’s all,” Tim said.
“That doesn’t sound like YouWAN2’s M.O.,” Diggle said. “Unless…the only person that we know who he’s sprayed and left behind is…” He looked at Oliver. “You.”
“Revenge,” Felicity said. “He wanted revenge against Oliver for putting a crimp in his plans. If this is YouWAN2, then this is another emotionally motivated attack and has nothing to do with sex. Maybe the Rapist has ties to the chemistry department at SU. Or the victim.” She paused to consider it and shook her head. “I’ll have to do some research.”
“You do that,” Oliver said, “but right now we need to get back to the house for our family meeting with Walter and Thea.”
Felicity snapped her fingers. “I’d forgotten about that. Today has been such a whirlwind. Alright, let’s go.”
>>--->
The news was on when they arrived in the living room of the Queen mansion, and Thea was pacing on the Aubusson carpet. “I hate this guy!” she said. “Why can’t the police catch him? Every woman in Starling is scared, Verdant is a ghost town, and the chuds online are treating this like it’s a sick joke. It’s disgusting!”
Roy was sitting in an armchair watching Thea pace. “You’re gonna wear a hole in that rug,” he said.
Oliver walked over and put a hand on Thea’s arm. “I’m sure they will find him soon. He’s escalating, so he’s going to make mistakes.”
Thea didn’t look comforted. “And how many more women will be sprayed before that happens? Someone has to do something!”
Raisa entered from the hall carrying a tray of baked goods and a pot of tea. “Mr. Steele called. He said to tell you he’s very sorry, but an emergency has come up at the bank, and he won’t be able to leave.” She perched on the edge of the couch near where Felicity was standing.
Thea looked over at her and noticed Felicity standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling a face. “I haven’t even said hello or welcomed you to the family, such as it is.” She walked over and touched Felicity’s hand. “Welcome to the family! It might not be the best time to be a Queen with Mom in prison and the company under attack, but,” she pointed to the tray Raisa had brought in, “we’ve got snacks.” She gave Felicity a bright smile.
“Thank you,” Felicity said. It wasn’t hard to like Thea. She was a whirlwind of a person, and unlike her brother, she held nothing back. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you better. I know this marriage was very sudden and unexpected.”
“Well, that’s Oliver for you,” Thea said. “Ghosting us for months last summer, moping around gloomily day in and day out when he returned, and then calling from Moscow to say, ‘By the way, I’m married!’” She turned to him. “Did it not occur to you that I would have liked to have been present at your wedding? What was the all-fire hurry?”
“It just…It just seemed like the perfect time,” Oliver said, turning to Felicity. “Right, honey?”
“There were some extenuating circumstances,” Felicity said, “but yes. It was the perfect time.”
“Extenuating circumstances?” Both Raisa and Thea chimed in at the same time.
“Isabel caught us on a date,” Felicity said. “Or, rather, the private investigator she hired to follow us did. She helpfully pointed out that QC has a no fraternization policy.” She picked up her new bag and pulled out the envelope of evidence they had on Isabel, took out a handful of the snapshots, and handed them to Thea.
Raisa came over to look over Thea’s shoulder. “Oh, Gorky Park! I’ve been there many times. It looks like they’ve renovated it,” she said. “This is when Mr. Oliver proposed?”
“Yes,” Oliver said. He gave Felicity a hard look.
“No,” Felicity said. She didn’t feel the need to keep secrets about this particular matter with his family. “She also put a video camera in Oliver’s suite and taped us without our knowledge.”
Raisa gasped.
“A sex tape, Ollie?” Thea said. “Great. That’s all we need now with Mom, for your sex tape to hit the internet right before her trial. Jean already tried to get me to break it off with Roy.”
“It’s not that bad,” Oliver said. “No clothes came off before we realized it was there.”
“But Isabel told Oliver she would release the tape and show the pictures to the QC board, if he didn’t fire me,” Felicity said. “So we got married.”
Thea looked briefly confused and then a little alarmed, so Felicity added, “But we were thinking of getting married anyway. Right, ducky?”
“Ducky?” Roy said, a laugh in his voice.
“Right,” Oliver said, shooting him a glare. “I gave her the ring. I just didn’t have the guts to ask her then.”
“That bitch,” Thea said. “It wasn’t enough that she tried to take our company? Why can’t she just leave our family alone?”
Felicity was not going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. She’d dropped enough truth on Thea for one day.
“Well, I’m glad,” Raisa said. “Already he looks happier. And calmer.” She reached out and touched Oliver’s arm.
Felicity smiled at her. “The press are sitting outside my apartment, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me around the house a little more,” she said, settling herself on the couch.
“Such good news,” Raisa said. “It’s too large, this house, to have so few people living in it.”
“You should think about moving back here,” Oliver said to Thea. “Roy too. We’ve got plenty of room. I’m going to hire more security. The press will not be able to bother you here during Mom’s trial. I’d feel better about you staying here with the Starling City Rapist at large.”
Thea looked at Roy, and he shrugged. “Maybe we will,” she said. “But what about all the other women in the city? He’s even targeting older women now. No one is safe.”
“I had a thought,” Felicity said. “If Verdant isn’t busy…”
“It’s totally empty,” Thea said. “I had to lay off half of my staff. Even guys don’t want to go clubbing if there are no women. If we didn’t own the property, we’d be looking at closing, maybe for good.”
“Then you might consider offering the space as a place where the victims can get group counseling.” Felicity glanced at Oliver. “Queen Consolidated could sponsor it and spearhead the public defense of these victims.”
Thea’s eyes sparked. “That’s a good idea!” she said. “And it will also be good PR for QC during the trial, which can’t hurt Mom’s case.”
“I was thinking we could pay for self-defense instructors to train people to better protect themselves. Roy could even be the face of that.” Felicity said.
“Me?” Roy asked. “Why me?”
“You know how to fight already, right?” Felicity asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re very good looking.”
“How am I going to take that the wrong way?” Roy looked confused.
“Some women would show up for that,” Felicity continued, “even scared women, especially if we had tight security for these events.”
“I don’t think–” Oliver said.
“You know you’re gorgeous, Oliver,” Felicity said, “but Roy looks like he belongs on a runway. Have you ever thought about modeling?” she asked him. “It probably pays better than–” She bit down on her tongue before it could spit out the word, “crime.”
“Better than doing security,” she finished.
Thea laughed at Oliver’s expression. “Ollie, I like her! Don’t be jealous. You had your day; you’re just over the hill now.”
Oliver gave her a bland look. “Ha ha,” he said. “Are you finished?”
“I’m just saying we should leverage all of that,” Felicity said, “to create a more positive perception of the Queen family. Thea could even start a campaign to destigmatize what has happened to these women and help them feel strong again - as a group. It could have a catchphrase, something like, We are not scared of you.”
Thea nodded. “I like it.”
“The thing is,” Felicity said, “the rapes are terrible, but the women probably don’t remember that much of what happened, so the worst part is that this rapist takes away their consent. He mind rapes them and then he physically rapes them. Even if it’s not violent, it’s a violation.”
Thea nodded. “That one guy who paid for the drug and used it on the girl he’d been stalking? Seth Bomer?” She shuddered.
“That was Morgan Ladd,” Felicity said. “She never would have slept with him. And now she has to live with the fact that she gave her stalker the best night of his life.”
“It’s not just sex,” Thea said. “It’s the humiliation.”
“And the whole world talks about them,” Raisa said. “They are looking down at them for something they never wanted to do.”
“Yes,” Felicity said, “but it’s even worse. Because the drug makes you want to have sex, you’re left wondering: Did I want this to happen? Meanwhile, the public now looks at you like a sex toy. Your privacy and sense of self respect have been destroyed.”
Raisa nodded.
“And the physical side effects don’t go away,” Felicity said. “Not for weeks and weeks. The arousal and your skin itching. The weird sweating…”
Thea leaned forward, frowning. “How do you know that?”
Felicity realized she’d said too much. “I think it was in one of the news reports.”
“No, I don’t think I’ve seen those details,” Thea said. “And I’ve had plenty of time to watch and read updates on the rapes. The news mostly focuses on the more salacious aspects of the rapes, not what the victims are feeling or experiencing after the fact. Since that’s what sells.” She looked disgusted. “Vultures.”
“Well, I…” Felicity said. She looked to Oliver for help, but he widened his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head.
Thea caught that look and narrowed her eyes. “Felicity,” she said, “you didn’t…” She hesitated. “You weren’t sprayed, were you?”
Felicity swallowed. How had they gotten here from her idea of QC offering support to the victims? Oh, yeah. Her stupid runaway mouth. “I…uh,” she said. “I…” Then she took a deep breath. “Okay, yes, he did spray me. But he didn’t rape me because…because Oliver was there.”
Thea, Roy, and Raisa all straightened at the same time. Raisa leaned over to touch Felicity’s shoulders. “How are you?” she asked.
“What happened?” Thea asked.
“We were…” Felicity said, mentally modifying the details of the attack so they would make sense to them. She certainly couldn’t tell Thea she’d been the bait for the Arrow to catch YouWAN2. “We were going to dinner. This was back in October. We were waiting in line outside, and a man came up to me with a map, like he wanted directions. I didn’t see the aerosol can until it was too late.
“I closed my eyes because the news had said not to look at him. He tried to get me to open them, but I didn’t.” She felt her breathing begin to quicken as she remembered the bitter taste of the spray and that creep caressing her arm and saying, “Is something wrong? Here, let me look at you. Open your eyes.”
Oliver crossed the room, sat down beside her, and picked up her hand. “It’s okay,” he said.
“You saw this happen?” Thea asked.
“He went after him. When he realized I’d been sprayed, Oliver tried to chase him down,” Felicity said. It seemed so long ago now. So much had happened in the past few months. Her life was entirely different now.
“And what happened then?” Thea asked impatiently. Then she caught on. “He sprayed you too, didn’t he? You both got sprayed.”
Raisa’s eyes widened, and she and Roy both said, “Ohh,” at the same time.
Felicity leaned her head into Oliver’s shoulder. She felt his arm encircle and pull her into his chest.
How strange. All of this time, she’d been mostly focusing on how to deal with how her relationship with Oliver was changing because of the drug. She’d been angry about YouWAN2, but on behalf of the other women who had been raped. She hadn’t realized how scared she’d been by the attack until now. Hers could have been one of those marked up bodies on the news. ASK ME HOW MANY TIMES I CAME.
“That was never going to happen to you,” Oliver said in a low voice near her ear. “I would never have let that happen to you. Alright?”
Felicity nodded.
Thea was still grappling with the revelation. “This explains a lot,” she said. “How do you feel now?”
“Okay, I guess,” Oliver said. “The drug has some odd side effects. Look, do we have to talk about this now? It’s upsetting her.”
“No, it’s okay,” Felicity said. “I don’t know why I’m being like this. It was months ago, and he didn’t rape me.”
“He still violated you, though,” Thea said. “Like you said. You know, you could have told me this, Ollie. Family help goes both ways. I wouldn’t have judged you for it. None of us would.”
Raisa shook her head solemnly. “I don’t understand why you have to keep all of this to yourself.”
“That is the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Thea asked. She started pacing again. “Okay, so we use Verdant for counseling and self-defense lessons. Roy can lure them in with his hotness. And maybe we have a rally where we use Felicity’s catchphrase, We are not scared of you. I like that a lot. We let this guy know that we are still strong, and he can’t control us. We still have agency, and the victims have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Are you okay with that, Roy?” Oliver asked. “We can get you some more defense training. It would probably be good for you to have anyway.”
“If it will help Thea, I’ll do it,” Roy said.
“This gives me something useful to do. I feel better already,” Thea said. “Sitting around waiting for the Rapist to strike again and for Mom’s trial to start has been driving me crazy.”
“That reminds me,” Oliver said. “I know we can’t have a full strategy session without Walter, but Mom should have a legal team. Jean is doing a credible job defending her, but we need to look more intimidating. If I have to see that dipstick Donner smirk knowingly at Mom one more time, I’m going to feed him his teeth.”
>>--->
“If it were up to me, I would ignore the press,” Oliver said later, after they’d gone to bed. “Let them think what they want. People will anyway. I don’t care,” he said emphatically.
Too emphatically, Felicity thought. There was a part of him, a maimed part of his psyche, still tender, that very much did care what people thought and wished they thought better of him. Alderman Sebastian Blood’s repeated savaging in the press had hurt and frustrated him, she knew. It was so unfair when he worked so hard to save the city. She traced the tattoo over his heart with her fingertip. It seemed to be fading. The dragon tattoo on his back was much lighter now.
“But this is for my mom,” Oliver continued, “so we have to ‘shape the narrative,’ as the crisis team says. They already sent out talking points. We’re on the cover of The Star this morning, and we’ll be in People and Us Weekly later this week. I’ll do press by myself, like I promised, but there’s one interview that I’d like you to do with me.” Oliver looked at her expectantly.
“I don’t want to do national press,” Felicity said. She did not. Donna Smoak and her life choices were a subject she was not going to discuss with the world at large. No, thank you.
“It’s not national,” Oliver said. “It’s local. There’s one independent reporter, Rachel Woodhouse. She covered my return last year, and, even if her coverage wasn’t what I was going for in terms of shaping the narrative, it was always generous.” He paused and then shrugged. “No matter how outrageous I was, she was never vicious like some of the other outlets. There was a whole post that she wrote on her blog about how processing trauma can result in acting out.”
There was something in his face; it looked almost like longing. This reporter had given him something valuable: understanding. “You like her,” Felicity said.
“I appreciated her coverage, that was all,” Oliver said, running a hand through her hair. “She has a soft spot for me, I think, for whatever reason. We can use that. And this interview, because it will be an exclusive, has the ability to make her career.”
“She won’t ambush us?” Felicity asked.
“I’d be very surprised if she did. There’s a piece on her website called 5 Times Oliver Queen Surprised Us about some of my more public philanthropic endeavors.” He looked away towards the darkened panes of the room’s large mullioned windows, and his cheeks pinkened.
Ah, so Rachel Woodhouse had a crush. Well, who wouldn’t? Felicity looked at the small smile tugging on his lips. Her throat tightened. This man was too much. He was too much for anyone to process except with numbered lists. 5 Times Oliver Queen Made You Want to Cry in the Best Way.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?” he smiled. “Great! I’ll set it up. You won’t regret it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Wear something nice and put together a couple of other outfits. We’ll do a quick photoshoot after, and she can have some exclusive photos too.”
>>--->
Felicity wore her new cobalt suit with her Tahitian pearl earrings and her tan Christian Louboutin knee-high boots to the interview with Rachel Woodhouse. Moira’s personal stylist, Pamela, met them at Queen Consolidated and fussed over her makeup and hair in the executive bathroom, finally deciding to arrange it in a loose chignon with curls at her temples.
“You have a lovely, long neck,” she said. “Which makes this kind of style very flattering. Did you bring her jewelry box?” she asked Oliver.
Oliver pointed to a large mahogany box on the granite counter which Felicity had somehow missed in the flurry of preparations. Pamela walked over, lifted the lid, and began to sort through its contents.
“Are you sure about those earrings?” she asked Felicity.
“I’m sure,” Felicity said. “They’re good luck. I got them for graduation.”
Pamela looked unconvinced. “Hmm. That cobalt color is very bright. And we don’t want to make you look too flashy. People will already wonder because of the Las Vegas connection. So diamonds are out.”
Oliver frowned at her. “I don’t see how–”
“I know Moira has a sapphire necklace here, but the stones are rather large, and they’d blend rather than stand out. And you’ll wear your engagement ring, of course. Everyone will want to see that.” She rummaged a bit more through the box.
“I’m afraid that leaves us with more pearls,” she said as she pulled a luminous three-strand choker from the box. “Try these on. They look fantastic on Moira.” She unclasped them and then arranged them on Felicity’s neck. “Yes, very fine. That will do. She will approve.”
>>--->
As an independent outlet, Rachel didn’t have a studio to film in, so they filmed the interview at QC, in Oliver’s office. Oliver had the furniture arranged in a cozy setting, and had the couch from the executive bathroom brought in for them to sit on. Felicity wasn’t sure about that choice. A lot of things had happened on this couch that she didn’t want to share with Rachel Woodhouse, even subconsciously. When she sat down, she pressed her legs together, thinking about some of them.
“Don’t be nervous,” Diggle said. “You’re going to do great.”
“I’m not nervous!” Felicity said and then dialed it back. “Okay, I am nervous. But Oliver’s going to be here, and he’s used to doing these things, so it’s going to be fine. Right? It’s going to be fine.”
Rachel came into the room with Oliver and a camera crew. She was a small woman with straight, nut-brown hair and hazel eyes wearing a burgundy suit with black heels and tasteful gold jewelry.
Felicity stood to shake her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “I know Oliver appreciates your work, so I’m sure we are in very capable hands.”
Rachel gave her hand a solid handshake, but her gaze drifted to Oliver, just the tiniest bit wistful. “I’m very glad to meet you as well, Mrs. Queen,” she said.
“Felicity,” Felicity said. “I don’t want to stand on ceremony. Felicity is fine.”
Rachel smiled. “Very well,” she said, “although during the interview I will probably use the other.”
Felicity nodded. The cameraman looked through the lens of one of the cameras on its tripod and adjusted it slightly, and another man moved some of the lighting equipment around and flipped on a light. Felicity blinked hard at the brightness. The round shape of the bulb burned a halo in the darkness behind her eyelids.
“I’ll put together the intro and the outro later, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Rachel was saying, “and I’ll send you a copy before I post anything. You won’t have editing privileges, but I want to make sure everything I say or write is accurate.”
Oliver nodded. “We appreciate it.”
“This is a fantastic opportunity for me, as I’m sure you know,” Rachel said. “So thank you.”
“I like your work,” Oliver said simply.
Rachel looked at him, wide eyed, and then jerked her chin down in a sharp nod. “Thank you. Now, should we get started?” She motioned for them to sit.
Oliver sat down next to Felicity and patted her knee which Felicity appreciated, but she wasn’t sure Rachel would.
“The two of you have certainly gotten people talking,” Rachel began, “with your unexpected wedding in Moscow. I’ll ask what everyone is wondering: Did you plan it?”
Oliver smiled. “First, I’d like to say that it’s a pleasure to talk with you today.” The bright lighting burnished his hair and brought out the gold hidden in the brown. His lips had the slightest rosy cast, the tiniest residue of her lipstick that Moira’s stylist had been either unable or unwilling to erase. “As to your question, no and yes.”
“No and yes?” Rachel repeated, frowning slightly. Felicity was also not sure of what he meant, but she knew it would be convincing. Oliver was in full-on charm mode, relaxed in his new, slightly larger, emergency-tailored wool suit and blue-green silk tie. He dropped her hand and put his arm on the back of the sofa behind her.
“We didn’t plan to get married in Moscow,” he said. “That was spur-of-the-moment. But Felicity and I have known each other since I returned to Starling City–”
“From the island on which you were rescued last year,” Rachel interjected.
“Yes,” Oliver said, pressing his lips together briefly. “From Lian Yu. Felicity was working in the IT department of Queen Consolidated, and I went there for help with a technical problem. As you can imagine, I was behind a bit in terms of technology.” He gave a short laugh.
“Anyone would be,” Rachel smiled indulgently.
“We had a connection from the beginning,” Oliver said. “And, of course, this year, when I became CEO of QC, I looked to her for help because I knew I could trust her implicitly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Things developed from there, and when we were in Russia on a business trip, I proposed.”
Rachel turned to Felicity, “Were you surprised? Did it seem very sudden?”
Felicity thought. “I was surprised. Oliver has a way of keeping you on your toes, as you can imagine.” She smiled as brightly as she could, and her hand fluttered to her chest. “He certainly turned our Moscow trip into something memorable.”
“Is that the ring?” Rachel asked.
Felicity held out her hand. “Yes, it’s beautiful isn’t it? A ruby - my birthstone.”
Rachel nodded and looked blatantly envious. “Very lovely. You chose it?” she asked Oliver.
“Felicity picked it out!” he laughed. “I just noticed that she liked it. She has good taste, doesn’t she?” He picked up her hand again and held it out. One of the cameras tilted slightly.
“Marriage is a big step, though,” Rachel said. “Your relationship seems quite new. Last year much of the press was speculating that you might reconcile with Laurel Lance.”
Felicity inwardly grimaced. They were married now, and Oliver still couldn’t shake his association with Laurel.
“Laurel and I are friends,” Oliver said. “We have a long history together, but Felicity is my future.”
“But–” Rachel began.
“Rachel,” Oliver lowered his voice. “I’ve read some of your work, so I think you will understand. When I was gone,” he stopped abruptly and swallowed. “I don't wait for the future or make elaborate plans anymore. After five years of living only for survival, when I see something I want, I don’t sleep on it. With Felicity, I saw a chance for real happiness, so I took it. That’s what’s important to me now.” He lifted Felicity’s hand from where it was resting on the couch and kissed it.
“Well, that’s…incredibly romantic,” Rachel said and then cleared her throat. “But some people are skeptical and feel this is all too sudden. What would you say to them?”
Oliver sat up. “I understand their skepticism. The Queen family is always in the public eye, and I haven’t always made the best decisions in the past. But they should know that Felicity is a remarkable woman, and our relationship has evolved naturally over time.”
“How do you respond to the rumors of an office affair?” Rachel asked, leaning forward. “She was your secretary.”
Felicity tensed, but Oliver laughed. “Does it matter? She’s my wife now. I trust her with my life.” He emphasized the last two words with an odd finality. “I’m not the only one who has met their significant other at the office.”
Rachel’s posture relaxed, and she rearranged herself in her chair. “I see. Well, congratulations to the two of you. I hope you will be very happy. Now, let's talk about the future. Will we see Felicity stepping into more of a public role alongside you at Queen Consolidated?
Oliver leaned back into the cushions of the couch. “That’s entirely up to her. She has my full support, whatever role she wants to take. She has so much talent. Did you know she was a child prodigy? QC is lucky to have her. I’m lucky to have her.” He squeezed her hand.
“You have something of a battle in front of you with your mother’s trial,” Rachel said.
“Yes, and we intend to win it,” Oliver said. “We are putting all of our resources into it.”
“What do you think will happen, Mrs. Queen?” Rachel turned her attention to Felicity. “You’ve been visiting Moira Queen in prison?”
“Yes, this is a difficult time for Mrs–” Felicity stopped herself. “For my mother-in-law, but we have every confidence that the jury will see that Moira’s actions happened under extreme coercion. Malcolm terrorized her for years. Oliver’s parents - and Oliver himself - were actually the first victims of Malcolm Merlyn’s Undertaking. I don’t think that’s been made clear in all of the press coverage.”
Rachel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Felicity leaned forward and delivered the narrative they’d created together last night in one tidy package. “The Queen’s Gambit didn’t sink because of a storm. Robert Queen was taking measures to prevent the Undertaking, so Malcolm Merlyn planted a bomb and sank it. Moira had the Gambit recovered. We have photos of the damage. It was clearly sabotaged.”
Felicity continued, “And last year, when Oliver miraculously returned, Mr. Merlyn ordered a hit on him which he was fortunate to survive. Mr. Steele, Moira’s second husband, was kidnapped and held for six months. Moira Queen knew what would happen to her family members if she opposed Malcolm Merlyn again because it was still happening.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open even as her eyes darted from Felicity to Oliver. “You said you have proof of this?” she asked.
“We do,” Oliver said, and then he turned toward the camera and looked straight into it. “There’s nothing on Earth that is stronger than a mother’s love,” he said. “Not even romantic love, as wonderful as it is. My mother was traumatized by the loss of my father and me and desperate to keep my sister, Thea, and me safe from Malcolm Merlyn. In the end, she tried to save the people of Starling City because she genuinely cares about the people of this city. She’s not a monster. She’s a mother, and we think when you know all of the facts, you’ll agree.”
Rachel tried to recover control of the interview, but then she seemed to realize it was futile. Finally, she turned to the camera as well. “Thank you, everyone, for tuning in! We will have more coverage in the coming days, both on Oliver and Felicity’s sudden marriage and on the startling revelations that Oliver has just made about his mother and Malcolm Merlyn. So please stay tuned!”
In the corner of the room Felicity saw Diggle give her a smile and a thumbs-up sign, and she let out the huge breath she’d been holding in.
>>--->
The “quick photoshoot” that Oliver had mentioned in actuality involved three changes of clothing, repeated ministrations from Pamela, and moving heavy camera and light equipment around the QC building so they could use the lobby as a backdrop - in addition to Oliver’s office and the IT Department. By the time they were done, Felicity knew she looked as droopy as she felt, but Oliver still looked fresh as a daisy.
“Ready?” he asked.
The board meeting started in twenty minutes, so the three of them took the elevator back up twenty floors and Felicity tried to freshen her makeup in the mirrored panels of the elevator.
“You look great,” Oliver said. “Don’t worry about that. We just have to keep our fingers crossed that Isabel is still tied up in an airport somewhere. Did you ping her phone?”
“It’s still in Stuttgart,” Felicity said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Interpol confiscated it, though. We’re probably not that lucky.”
“Doubt it,” Diggle said. “We’ve never been that lucky.”
Three board members were already in the meeting room when they arrived, including Evelyn McLeod, one of Oliver’s more vocal critics. When she saw them enter, she made a beeline for Oliver. “Congratulations are in order, I hear,” she said, extending her hand. When Oliver thanked her and shook it, she laid her other hand on top of his. “I’m always glad to see a young man settle down. In my experience, marriage, and especially children, have a stabilizing effect on even the most impulsive of bachelors.” She scanned the curve of Felicity’s stomach in her suit. “I suppose you are thinking of children?”
“Baby Watch 2013 has begun,” Diggle said under his breath.
Oliver had been right. “Probably later rather than sooner, Mrs. McLeod,” Felicity said, forcing a smile. “Thank you for your kind wishes.”
The other board members began to file in along with Lawrence Westerby. Mrs. Christoffersen and Ms. Mendelsohn stopped to chat with Oliver and offer their congratulations, and Felicity went to put the laptop she had brought with her at the head of the table along with her bag. She pulled a large envelope from it and placed it next to her laptop.
Jim Schramm, the chairman of the board, opened the meeting promptly at 7 PM. “Before we begin,” he said, “I have an email from our co-CEO, Isabel Rochev, saying that she’s been delayed but she hopes to be here before the meeting adjourns.”
Oliver shot Felicity a look that she knew meant, “Don’t panic,” but Felicity felt dread begin to squeeze her stomach. They needed to present their evidence before Isabel arrived.
Mrs. Christoffersen looked confused. “She’s never late.”
Mr. Schramm lowered his bifocals to squint at his phone. “She says she has had travel problems.”
“She didn’t return with you?” Ms. Mendelsohn asked Oliver.
“No, she took a different flight,” he said.
“Well, she should be here soon,” Mr. Schramm said, “so let’s get started. The first order of business is the finalized acquisition of AEC Chemical. Mr. Westerby would like to say a few words.”
Lawrence Westerby got to his feet, and everyone in the room clapped. He looked both pleased and then, momentarily uncertain.
“I hated to let AEC go, I’ll be honest,” he said, lightly wringing his hands. “It’s my life’s work. It’s not just water and soil remediation, as I’m sure you know from your diligence. We have been doing breakthrough work with hyper-efficient fuel formulations and there’s a deep shelf of research projects, including some intriguing, if incomplete, work with human infertility.” His voice rose in excitement, and then he paused and gave a rueful laugh. “But I also have two new grandchildren and a wife who says she can’t remember what I look like, so it’s time.”
Several of the board members laughed.
“I won’t bore you with the baby photos,” Mr. Westerby said, “But please take care of my company. I’m handing off an enormous amount of potential for human and environmental development. Take advantage of it, and use it wisely.”
Oliver stood and extended his hand to Mr. Westerby across the table. “Thank you for your trust, Lawrence. I know that all of us here have the greatest respect for the company you built, and I assure you that AEC is in good hands with Queen Consolidated going forward.”
Mr. Westerby clasped his hand and gave a nod of his head. “Seriously, son. You’ve got more time than I have. You may see some miracle discoveries from our research department get through the regulatory process yet. I hope so.”
While the rest of the room exchanged final pleasantries with Mr. Westerby, Felicity surreptitiously clicked through the AEC acquisition folder on her laptop until she found the due diligence subfolder. AEC was doing research on infertility? She must have missed that somehow in all of the meetings she’d sat in on. She mainly recalled a lot of talk about PFAS and soil.
Having spoken his piece, Lawrence Westerby then said his goodbyes and left. Felicity put her hand on Oliver’s arm and squeezed. Now would be the time to make their case.
“The next item on the agenda is–” Jim Schramm said.
Oliver raised his finger. “Jim, I hate to interrupt, but Felicity and I would like to share with you something that happened on our trip to Moscow.”
Mr. Schramm frowned, “It’s not on the agenda.” He was a real stickler for business formalities.
Mrs. Mendelsohn smiled, “Oh, Jim. Let them talk. It’s not every day that people get married. I’m sure I speak for everyone,” her face clouded briefly as she took in Jim’s expression, “when I say we are pleased and happy for both of you. It was certainly a surprise, though!”
“What a surprise!” Mrs. Christoffersen said. “I agree with Rebecca. We’re happy for you, and this can only be good for the company. QC’s stock price was up 10% over the weekend!”
Oliver straightened in his chair. “Thank you. Several of you have already extended congratulations to us personally, and we are grateful for your well wishes, but that’s not what we need to discuss.”
Evelyn McLeod frowned. “There’s something else?” She gave another speculative look at Felicity.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Oliver said. “As you may know, Isabel traveled to Moscow with us. While we were there, she hired a private investigator to take pictures of Felicity and me together. Without our knowledge.”
The room went silent. It was so quiet Felicity could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and Diggle shifting his weight from one foot to the other behind her.
Oliver picked up the manila envelope from the table and pulled out some of the photographs from their champagne picnic at the duck pond. “These were taken of the two of us in Gorky Park on the day I proposed to Felicity.” He passed them around the table. Mrs. McLeod actually clucked in approval when they reached her.
“While we didn’t realize the photographer was following us, the security team Oliver used in Moscow spotted and questioned him,” Felicity said. “Isabel paid him using a QC account, so we think it can be assumed that you were meant to see them.”
Ms. Mendelsohn began to fiddle with her wedding ring. She looked uncomfortable, as she should. Hers was one of Isabel’s hand-picked seats.
“So you’re saying that Isabel…” Mr. Schramm began.
“She confronted us later in Oliver’s hotel room and told us that she would share these photos if Oliver did not fire me,” Felicity said.
Several voices rose in question as the twelve board members present processed this information. Mr. Schramm’s phone gave a little ding, and he looked down at it. “It looks like we will have the opportunity to ask Ms. Rochev what her intentions were,” he said. “She’s arrived in the building.”
“We also discovered a video camera and a listening device in my suite,” Oliver said quickly. “She was recording our private, uh, activities. She threatened to release that video as well.”
“These are very serious accusations,” Mr. Patel said, half standing. Felicity opened a window and ran her finger down a column of numbers on her laptop screen. Rajesh Patel had received $10,000 from Isabel’s off-shore account in May and another $5,000 in September.
“There’s more,” Felicity said. She hurriedly synced her laptop with the large screen at the front of the room, and brought up her security footage from the Silk Lounge. “The night before we found the video camera, Isabel… Well, you can see what she does here.” She hit the play button on the video, and the whole room watched as Isabel slid her palm up Oliver’s thigh almost to his crotch. Mrs. McLeod gasped in outrage.
“Oliver has tried his best to work cooperatively with Isabel for the good of Queen Consolidated,” Felicity said, “but we believe that her behavior indicates she has a deep-seated resentment of the entire Queen family.” She called up another file. “Many people at QC are aware that Isabel was involved with Robert Queen some years ago, and the affair ended badly.”
On the large screen a younger version of Isabel appeared, visibly distraught and crying in the QC lobby as Walter Steele led her by the arm towards the exit. “I don’t care what you say!” she screamed. “Everyone needs to know that Robert Queen is a liar!” Two security guards approached her, and she took a potted plant from the reception desk and threw it at them. “You tell him that one day he will be sorry he ever did this. I can promise you that–he’ll regret it! He will learn how it feels to lose everything!”
The room grew quiet again, and her words echoed in the space.
“Isabel’s name also appears in a book of names associated with Malcolm Merlyn’s Undertaking,” Oliver said. Felicity brought the image up on the screen. “This will be presented as evidence in my mother’s trial.”
“That’s just her name,” Ms. Mendelsohn said. “It’s not evidence of any wrongdoing on her part.”
“She was also Vice President of Acquisitions at Unidac Industries when the earthquake machine prototype was developed and worked directly with Malcolm Merlyn,” Oliver said.
“This will be on the news tomorrow, if not tonight,” Felicity said. She opened the “Queen’s Gambit” folder on her laptop and brought up photos of the salvage, clicking through them one by one. “Robert Queen’s yacht did not sink because of a storm. It was sabotaged with explosives. He was going to oppose the Undertaking, so Malcolm had him killed - and stranded Oliver on Lian Yu.”
Everyone in the room looked at Oliver, and Felicity watched the expressions on their faces as their perception of him shifted from feckless trust-funder to sole survivor of an assassination. They had six or more years’ worth of assumptions to sift through for their picture of Oliver to fit the man in front of them, but she didn’t have time for that right now. She heard the elevator ding in the hall and the sharp tap of a high-heeled shoe on the marble of the floor.
“We do not know definitively if Isabel had anything to do with the Undertaking or my father’s death,” Oliver rushed to say. “However, given her attempt at a hostile takeover of QC as Vice President of Acquisitions at Stellmoor, along with her aggressive behavior towards me and her blackmail attempt, we believe that Isabel’s actions at Queen Consolidated have been motivated primarily by a desire for revenge.”
The door opened, and Isabel stalked into the boardroom. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail, and the skirt she was wearing was crumpled. She looked harassed but determined, as always.
Oliver looked directly at her and said, “For the good of the company, you must vote to remove Isabel Rochev from her position as CEO. Effective immediately.”