Page 30 of The Birthday Girl
T ahlia’s voice filled the boardroom. “Quarter four outperformed projections by eleven percent,” she said, clicking the remote in her hand.
The screen behind her lit with graphs that told a story of her strength in the boardroom.
“If we want to sustain momentum, the Lakeshore project must break ground before the first of the year.”
She glided to the screen and tapped the rising curve with a manicured nail. “These numbers prove the difference between us and everyone else. We dictate. If anyone here does not understand what that means, speak now. Failure will never be tolerated.”
The silence that followed was absolute as heads shook around the table.
Tahlia allowed herself the smallest smile. “Good. Then let us move on to expansion into—”
The double doors banged open, and her head snapped in its direction.
Heather, Tahlia’s assistant, hurried inside, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, and breathless as though she had sprinted the length of the building.
Ezra, her publicist, followed close behind with a tablet clutched tight against his chest, sweat glistening on his hairline.
Tahlia placed the remote down with a soft click and pivoted toward the interruption. "I believe we discussed the sanctity of board meetings, Heather," she said, her voice like chilled steel as she glared at her assistant.
Heather's throat bobbed. “Ms. Banks... the lobby's swarming with media. They've formed a gauntlet at every exit. No one can leave without getting microphones shoved in their faces.”
Ezra stepped forward before Tahlia could respond. His tone was urgent, the words tumbling out fast. “It’s not just the press. It’s the internet. That’s why I came here instead of calling. You need to see this now.”
He tapped the tablet awake, the glow splashing across his tense face. As headlines scrolled across the screen, the air in the room shifted with them.
Before addressing Ezra, Tahlia’s gaze swept the table, and she dismissed her employees with a flick of her hand. “That will be all for today. Leave us.”
Chairs scraped back in uneasy silence, and the staff members quickly filed from the room. Only when the doors shut behind them did she turn her attention fully to Ezra.
“Show me.”
Ezra unlocked his tablet with shaking hands and angled it toward her. “News broke this morning, Ms. Banks,” he said, voice low but urgent. “Not just local, but national. Tyriq Lawson’s disappearance hit every major outlet before sunrise.”
Headlines scrolled across the screen, each more damning than the last:
“Top Criminal Defense Attorney Tyriq Lawson Reported Missing.”
“Where Is Tyriq Lawson? High-Profile Lawyer Vanishes Without a Trace.”
“Ex-Fiancée Tahlia Banks Silent as Tyriq Lawson Becomes a Missing Person.”
The comment sections bled with speculation, brutal and unrelenting:
FreshAsImIs: She did it. No way she didn’t.
HotMama1986: It’s really convenient that he just went missing like that. You can’t tell me that hoe ain’t guilty. Does anyone remember that chick posting a picture of his head between her legs?
MommyYo: Something’s off with that bitch. You can’t tell me she didn’t kill that nigga.
Ezra swiped to another screen, his throat tight as he forced the words out. “Every outlet has your name next to his, and the internet has already decided you’re guilty.”
Tahlia’s eyes flicked over the screen, each headline more dreadful than the last. Her manicured finger slid across the glass, scrolling slowly, until a single image stopped her cold.
The photo filled the tablet, and it showed Tyriq’s head busted and bleeding, his profile turned to the side for the world to recognize him. And there, blurred in the background, was Tahlia, caught with a bottle in her hand.
Tahlia’s stomach tightened, though her face betrayed nothing. “Where did they get this?” She asked, her voice betraying the turmoil she felt inside.
“I don't know the source, but the image matches frames from that video I confiscated from Mercedes. She must have backed it up or sent copies before I got to her.”
“How did you not make sure you had everything?” Tahlia's voice sliced through the air, her palm slamming against the conference table with enough force to make the tablet jump.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply, the perfect composure she'd maintained in front of the board now fractured beyond recognition.
The headlines continued to scroll, each one a nail in a coffin she hadn't planned for. Bodies could be buried. However, reputations, once tarnished, left permanent stains on balance sheets. Her empire, the only thing that had ever truly belonged to her, was what mattered now.
Ezra’s hands gripped the tablet so hard the glass flexed. Sweat beaded on his hairline, but he kept his face steady, as if hoping some borrowed strength from Tahlia might pass to him by proximity.
“It gets worse,” he said quietly. “No one from Tyriq’s office is picking up.
His phone’s off. The police are camped in the parking garage.
” He risked a glance up at Tahlia, whose jaw had set so hard it seemed fused.
“And I checked the forums. They’re picking apart every move you make.
They even posted your home address five times this morning. ”
In the vast, gleaming hush of the boardroom, you could almost hear the calculus happening inside Tahlia’s head.
Her mind ticked through contingency plans with the cold, mechanical precision she reserved only for existential threats.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, a rare gesture, and Ezra wondered, not for the first time, if the woman might turn her killer instinct on him.
Instead, she inhaled again, steadier now, and flicked her wrist to signal: Enough. Ezra stood there, waiting for his punishment, but she only drew in her focus and beckoned for her assistant.
“Heather,” Tahlia said, her eyes never leaving the headlines. “Let the media know I’ll be doing a press conference. Not later. Now.”
Her assistant hesitated in the doorway, uncertain whether to approach. “Here, Ms. Banks? In the boardroom?”
Tahlia’s chin dipped, a movement as imperious as a queen’s. “Here, but in the lobby. Arrange for livestreams with every outlet, and every social media platform, even the YouTube bottom-feeding parasites. Make sure someone is filming them filming me.”
A beat passed, and Heather, as though freed from a spell, disappeared down the hallway. However, Ezra hadn’t moved, so Tahlia turned on him, her gaze cool again.
“That fear in your eyes is a luxury we can't afford. Show it again, and I'll consider it your resignation.”
Ezra’s lips parted as if to defend himself, but she silenced him with a single raised finger.
“Let's be clear about something. The first I heard about Tyriq's alleged disappearance was when you two interrupted my meeting.
Whatever happened to him, it happened without my knowledge or involvement.
We weren't on the best of terms because he fathered a child with my sister, but I don't want him dead.”
Ezra, stunned by the news, clutched the tablet tighter as he stared at Tahlia, wondering if he should believe her.
Her voice carried conviction, but her eyes were empty, flat panes of glass that reflected nothing back.
They didn’t hold grief, or fear, or even anger, just an unsettling stillness that made his skin crawl.
Tahlia smoothed an invisible crease from her sleeve before continuing.
“What I want is to be seen as a heartbroken woman facing circumstances she didn’t create.
The public should view me as a woman under siege and betrayed in public, but still dignified enough to stand tall.
That’s the story you’ll spin, Ezra. He is the celebrated attorney with countless enemies, and I am the girlfriend they want to destroy by proxy. ”
Her eyes narrowed, the chill of calculation hardening her features. “The public doesn’t need to see rage from me. They need to see heartbreak. They need to see a woman terrified for the man she loves, harassed by cameras, and begging for his safe return.”
Ezra shifted uneasily, sweat gathering again at his temples. “You’re… asking me to make you the victim.”
Tahlia’s lips curved, but the smile was devoid of warmth. “Not asking. I gave you the truth. Now, I’m instructing you on how to do your job. Victims win sympathy, and sympathetic women don’t get convicted in the court of public opinion.”
She moved closer, snatched the tablet from his hands, and scrolled back to the photo that had been posted. Tyriq’s bruised face stared back at her, her own blurred form in the background. She tilted the screen toward Ezra.
“Make it simple,” she said. “They posted this to humiliate me while he’s missing. Show me vulnerable. Make them pity me. When they pity me, they stop looking for other things.”
Ezra’s throat worked, but no sound came, and Tahlia set the tablet down.
“Prepare the statement, Ezra. Every second we wait, someone else defines the narrative, and I will not have my story told by bitter women or vultures with cameras.”
Ezra hesitated. “And if the police push back? If they go public with—”
“With what?” Tahlia snapped, her eyes flashing with sudden ferocity. “There is no evidence. I have done nothing wrong.”
Ezra shifted, torn between fear and disbelief. “Perception doesn’t need evidence. Right now, the internet doesn’t care about proof. They only care about the story they can sell each other.”
Tahlia’s expression cooled in an instant, as if she had pulled a mask back over her face. “Then we give them a better story. One that makes me untouchable, not guilty.”
She paced to the head of the conference table, her heels clicking against the polished floor, and rested her hands on the back of a chair. “Draft the statement. Make it short and precise. I’ll approve it before we speak to the press.”
“And when the cameras demand more than a statement?”