Dwight knows a gold-digger when he sees one. He should, considering how much he pays in alimony to his three ex-wives. That has to have bought him something right? Well it has. He's developed a keen eye for women out to drain a bank account dry.
Some are obvious - like his second ex-wife, Eliza, in hindsight. Others hide it better.
Still… money trails don't lie and Dwight is very good at following the dollars.
Freelance journalism might not be the most lucrative of careers, but after four years on staff as a finance and business reporter and six covering politics, Dwight's got the experience and name-recognition he needs to be his own boss. He likes it. Not just because he doesn't have wages that they can garnish and steal from him when he gets behind on paying his ex-wives, but that's definitely part of it.
There's nothing Dwight likes quite as much as he likes money. The intricacies of it, what people will do for it, the stories that transactions tell. He considers himself an expert in the field and an artist in how he presents the stories he finds. A Hemingway of financial forensics, if you will. Very possibly, he might be the most important reporter since Woodward and Bernstein.
At least, in his opinion.
Never let it be said that Dwight Sorenson lacks a sense of self worth.
So, while every other reporter in Star CIty is covering the narrowly avoided local nuclear crisis, Dwight takes a different path and does what he does best.
He follows the money.
When the dust settles and the general population stops running around like Chicken Little, Dwight looks to those standing on the pile of rubble left behind. And this time… well it's no surprise to see a Queen at the top of the heap. That's always been the way of things in Star City, hasn't it? The Queens, the Merlyns, the Bowens, the Deardens back in their day. Dwight's never been at their level of power or wealth, but his great-grandfather's sister married into the Bowen family about a hundred years ago, so he feels like he's adjacent to it. These are still his people, still the world where he really belongs, even if his bank account and last name don't show it.
But anyhow. Oliver Queen suddenly in charge of the city isn't a surprise to anyone with half a lick of common sense. And, for that matter, neither is Felicity Smoak regaining control of Palmer Tech the second everything calms back down.
The Oliver Queens of the world are best suited for high-level politics. And the Felicity Smoaks of the world… well, Dwight has enough experience with them to know they'll sap the Oliver Queens and Ray Palmers of the world of enough funds to claw their way up to the lap of luxury.
She's crafty, that Smoak girl. She doesn't look the part of honey trap. She's cute and all, don't get him wrong; he wouldn't kick her outta bed. But she's hot in that unassuming, nerdy schoolgirl kind of way. That's because she's clever though. She obviously knows how to play up what advantages she's got.
Over the past three years, she's gone from IT tech to executive assistant to CEO of a Fortune 500 company. That's not just an impressive rise to power, it's an impossible one. That's a story all on its own, but Dwight's interest is always, always the money behind it.
And the Smoak girl's money? Yeah, that tells a tale all on its own. One he's more than happy to put into print and even the more respectable papers are willing to buy on sight.
The daughter of a single mom serving cocktails in Vegas doesn't wind up at the top of the business food chain, with a billion dollar net worth by the age of 25, without something far more interesting than hard work going on. And Dwight's pretty sure he's got a good beat on what it was.
Sometimes money is hard to follow. There are complicated transactions that try to mask where the funds came from or so many hands in the pot it's hard to tell how the pieces fall into place. Not this time. It's as easy as one, two, three.
As easy as Queen, Palmer, Smoak.
If it just came down to Ray Palmer being far more tech savvy than business savvy when he left everything to his girlfriend who happened to be the former CEO's executive assistant, that would have been one thing. An unlikely coincidence and enough for him to investigate for sure, but not a smoking gun, so to speak. Even the fact that she moved on to get engaged to that former CEO whose name is worth as least as much as the money Palmer left her could be written off as happenstance. This is more than that. This goes back further than anyone seems to have imagined.
Because Oliver Queen gave Felicity Smoak a million dollars before anyone even knew her name.
A hard look at the last few years of Felicity Smoak's life tells Dwight one thing - she's been clawing her way up from the get-go. He's holdin' on to that detail about the million bucks for now, though. It's his golden ticket and he knows it. Gotta sell more than one story, after all. One expose is great, but a series of them? Well… Dwight likes dollar signs best of all when they belong to him.
The first in the series hit the stands today, above the fold Starling City Press, at that. Dwight's pretty sure nothing could ruin his day at this point. He's flying high with cash in his metaphorical pocket, his name in print, and a call from The Gotham Herald asking if he wouldn't be interested in heading up their way to do a little digging in their neck of the woods, too. But then, to make matters even better, he gets a call asking him to come by the mayor's office.
Yeah, Dwight's pretty sure he knows what this is about. Obviously the mayor can't go saying much about his ex - that's bad politics - but he's gotta be thrilled that somebody finally figured her game out and went public with it. Dwight would sure as hell be delighted if anybody put a spotlight on his conniving ex-wives and he figures he and Oliver Queen aren't actually all that different. They're both locals, both have ties to respectable families, both out the money they really should have, both career men. They even both work out - Dwight hits the gym at least once a week since divorce number three and not only to check out Liesl, the hot yoga instructor he's pretty sure is into him.
So, it's with supreme confidence and a solid spring in his step that Dwight strides into Mayor Queen's office. It doesn't falter, not even with Oliver Queen's little intern glares at him.
What's her name, again? Carrie? Missy? Chrissy? He doesn't know. It really doesn't matter. She's just a pretty face who looks good in a skirt - he'll give the mayor this much, he sure knows how to surround himself with some terrific eye candy - it's not like she's worth remembering.
"Hey there, little lady," Dwight says, offering his best million-dollar-grin. "I've got a meeting with your boss, if you'd let him know I'm here."
Missy or Chrissy or whatever makes no move to stand up, though. For a moment, he wonders if she has a hearing problem because this is her job, to relay messages and make copies and coffee, right? But, no. She doesn't move. She doesn't say anything either, not until he opens his mouth to repeat himself slower and with more annunciation.
"It's Ms. Chan to you," she counters primly. Prissy? Is her name Prissy? It is now, in his head anyhow. Who the hell does she think she is?
"Sure," Dwight agrees, because wasting time debating anything at all with a college girl isn't worth it. "How about you go let the mayor know I'm here. He's expecting me."
The girl's obviously in a tizzy about something - hormones, Dwight decides after a moment, she must be having lady problems - but she does get up and go back to the mayor's office. This is good because that's her job. The work ethic kids have these days… they should be embarrassed, can't even be bothered to get up and tell their very important superiors that their scheduled appointment is here.
Prissy won't amount to much, Dwight can tell.
She's gone just long enough that Dwight starts to wonder if she got lost on the way to find the mayor or if she took a trip out the side door to hit up Starbucks before coming back. But then she does return and it's with an entirely unearned, satisfied smile on her face.
Quite suddenly, he really doesn't like Prissy.
"You can go back now," she relays. "He's waiting for you."
"Thank you," Dwight says, because he has manners and maybe this kid can learn by example.
"Oh… you're very welcome," Prissy smiles toothily. Maybe she needs practice. It looks vicious rather than sincere and it certainly isn't welcoming.
She's a terrible secretary.
But he's done thinking about Prissy. More important things to move onto. With his chin held high, Dwight strides into the mayor's office, expecting a blinding grin and a handshake from the affable mayor.
He's more than a little confused when the man doesn't even look up from the paperwork in front of him for a long moment. Had Prissy lied? Had she even told the mayor that he was here? Dwight's confused and he doesn't like it.
"Have a seat," the mayor tells him without glancing his direction.
Dwight does. The chair seems more uncomfortable than usual and he wonders for a moment if Prissy switched it out for one of the broken ones in the conference room. It squeaks and the feet are uneven, making it tilt back and forth ever-so-slightly as he shifts his weight.
It's almost like it's designed to make him uncomfortable.
The mayor makes a dissatisfied noise that sounds very much like a grumble and he grimaces as he jots down a note in red pen on whatever it is he's looking at.
It's the near-silence that finally gets to Dwight, after a minute or so.
"Listen-" Dwight ventures uncomfortably, only to be cut off sharply as the mayor looks up and hones all of his attention on him.
"No," Mayor Queen tells him. "I don't think I will listen. I've spent the better part of my morning dealing with what you've had to say already. I'm about done listening to you."
To say Dwight is stunned is a bit of an understatement. But the mayor's far from done.
"You're going to issue an apology to Felicity and hand over your press pass," the mayor announces.
Dwight realizes far, far too late that he and the mayor are absolutely nothing alike.
"I will not!" Dwight protests.
"Oh, you will," the mayor tells him, standing up to his full, imposing height. "That whole article is an embarrassment to the papers who ran it and to you personally. I've already talked to the editors. They're retracting the story in tomorrow's paper, but I want the apology from you. In writing and in person."
"I have evidence!" Dwight insists. "That upstart was toying with you and Palmer from the beginning just to get her hands on money and power. Can't you see that? She needs to be brought down a notch!"
The way the mayor's eyes darken is startling, menacing even. He's usually so jovial, so approachable, so cultured. But right now it looks like Mayor Queen would be as likely to punch him out as to host a gala and Dwight's starting to wonder if there isn't a whole lot more to this mayor than meets the eye.
"You have speculation and assumptions," the mayor corrects, an unmistakable threat in his voice. "You don't know a damned thing about Felicity Smoak and you're going to apologize or I'm going to take you to court for libel and make sure you never work in this town again. Are we clear?"
His tone sounds like he's warning of something a whole lot more serious than a lawsuit and Dwight could not be more surprised by this entire conversation if he tried. Wow, does that girl have the mayor eating out of the palm of her hand or what?
"I don't get it," Dwight sputters, blinking back at the mayor. "She's got your company. She's got all the money that used to be yours. She left you. It's real clear to me what's going on. Why in the hell are you going to bat for her?"
The mayor's jaw clenches and his nostrils actually flare, which is something Dwight had previously thought was only a saying and not a thing that actually happened. Apparently he was wrong. Again. That's becoming a pattern today and he doesn't like it one bit.
One thing is clear - they mayor's pissed… and Dwight's the one who made it that way.
"Because, Dwight," he finally grits out, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against each other like Dwight's do sometimes when he thinks about money, "she's worth going to bat for. Which is clearly not something you're capable of understanding. I don't owe you any explanations. What you owe me is your press pass. What you owe her is an apology. I want the first right now and the second by morning or I will make your life so difficult you'll wish you'd never learned to write in the first place."
Yeah, Dwight's pissed, but he's also fully aware that he can't go up against the mayor and win. Not right now, anyhow. The man's powerful, popular and obviously has the upper hand… one that's reaching out expectantly, waiting for his press pass. His press pass, the little card that gives him access and clout and damn but he doesn't want to give that up.
Mayor Queen clearly isn't giving him a choice, though, and Dwight's well aware that the mayor could make this considerably more difficult on him if he chose to. He feels a little betrayed, honestly, as he digs his beloved pass out of his pocket and slaps it into the mayor's hand. He'd expected some kind of solidarity, loyalty even. They're not that different, after all, and he really hadn't said anything uncharitable about him.
"I didn't even put anything in there about the million dollars," Dwight huffs.
This, as it turns out, was a mistake. The mayor's entire body jolts and his eyes turn wary as he searches Dwight's face for more information than he'd really planned to give.
"What million dollars?" the mayor asks cautiously, his entire frame betraying how very on-edge he is.
"Doesn't matter now," Dwight huffs, but the look on the mayor's face doesn't change at all, so after a moment he decides to share a little more. Maybe the mayor will see sense if he realizes how very reserved he really was in his article. "After the Undertaking. You transferred a whole bunch of zeroes into her account." He starts to feel a little more indignant of his treatment as what he's saying rolls around his head. "And, you know, a lot of people would have led with that for a story because it could look very bad for you if put in a certain light."
Hm… maybe insinuating that the mayor had hired his ex-fiance for sexual favors wasn't the best plan ever, judging by the completely irate look on the man's face. Shit, but is he ever duped by this girl. Dwight almost feels bad for him, but there's not really any room for him to dedicate feeling bad toward anyone but himself at the moment.
"You have five seconds to get out of here before you have a lot bigger problems than a lawsuit and a revoked press pass," the mayor growls at him.
He sounds dark, dangerous, like another person entirely, and Dwight completely believes him. He's out of his chair in an instant and hurries out the door, a complicated mixture of confusion, fear and anger.
Prissy's at her desk with an entirely too cheery face and Dwight sort of wishes he could put this all back on her somehow when she calls out "have a great day" as he storms out the door.
That day he thought couldn't be ruined? It completely has been. But Dwight's used to not being given his due. He's been in worse spots than this, he thinks as he pulls open the door to his Civic with far too much force and climbs in. It's not like this is the only story on his radar. He's got other things. Some of them are every bit as lucrative. Some of them might even be related - because he's willing to suspect Felicity Smoak of anything at this point. If he can prove everything he said, if he can provide hard evidence that isn't circumstantial… things they'll have to listen to… well Dwight would sorta love to see the mayor eat his words.
He turns the key and starts his car with a sputtering noise that really doesn't say good things about the state of his mid-sized sedan. But all of that's gonna take a back seat for now. He's got another lead he needs to follow, one that leads through some pretty shady people from Star City right back to Moscow.
Dwight's scrappy, at least in his own mind, an intrepid reporter in his very soul. He's gonna get the story and get himself back on track if it kills him. And he's not going to apologize to Felicity Smoak.
No matter what.
She's a gold-digger and he knows it. She doesn't deserve an apology.
