Chapter 4 - The Golden Parasite Strikes Back
Two days later, the fallout hit local headlines. An investigative blogger picked up the story, running an expose titled *The Price of Pride: How Bennett Commercial Built an Empire on a Daughter’s Credit—and Lost It All in Ten Seconds*.
The article featured high-resolution screenshots from the grand opening video, the police report I had quietly filed for assault an hour after the incident, and a breakdown of Bennett Commercial’s staggering liabilities.
Instead of keeping a low profile, Tyler decided to fight back using the only weapon he knew: unhinged narcissism.
On Tuesday morning, a TikTok video appeared on his public account, filmed from the leather driver’s seat of his sports car—a car, incidentally, that my company’s corporate account had been leasing for the past eighteen months.
“Hey guys,” Tyler said into the camera, sneering. “So everyone’s talking about this little family spat. Let’s get one thing straight: my sister Claire is a greedy corporate sellout who stepped on our dad to build her little boutique shop. She didn’t build Haven & Pine alone; she stole our family’s client list back in 2018 when she was working out of her apartment. My dad gave her everything, and this is how she repays him with a police report and financial sabotage. Cancel Haven & Pine.”
The video gained traction quickly, driven by internet trolls and people who loved a messy family drama. Within hours, a small group of protestors—four teenagers holding cardboard signs—appeared outside Haven & Pine.
Lena came into my office, visibly agitated. “Claire, look at this. Some kids are outside chanting outside the front windows. They’re blocking customers.”
I stood up, adjusted the lapel of my cream blazer, and walked out to the floor. Through the glass, I saw the teenagers looking awkwardly around, clearly regretting whatever twenty dollars Tyler had Venmoed them to stand there.
I unlocked the front door and stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air.
The protestors froze. One of them lowered his sign, which read *BOYCOTT THE BRAT*.
“Hi guys,” I said, speaking in a normal, conversational tone. “Are you cold?”
The kid holding the sign blinked. “Uh… no?”
“Good. Because if you’re going to protest my store, at least make sure your employer pays you a living wage instead of using third-party peer-to-peer apps that report your income to the IRS.” I pulled a small stack of flyers from my pocket. “Actually, we’re hiring part-time logistics associates starting at twenty-two dollars an hour with full health benefits. Way better than whatever Tyler Bennett handed you to hold cardboard in the wind.”
Several customers exiting the store burst out laughing. The protestors looked at each other, whispered among themselves, and within thirty seconds, two of them dropped their signs into the nearby recycling bin and walked away.
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By evening, my calm, witty handling of the protest was viral on X, formerly Twitter, with a tech entrepreneur quote-tweeting it: *‘When your brother sends amateur protestors and you recruit them on the spot. Absolute boss move.’*
Tyler’s smear campaign had backfired spectacularly, driving traffic to Haven & Pine up by forty percent in a single afternoon.
