Chapter 11 - The Boardroom Confrontation
The top floor of the Vance Maritime Tower in downtown Boston overlooked the bustling harbor, a cathedral of glass, chrome, and unchecked wealth. Inside the boardroom, fifteen members of the board of directors sat in silence around a massive marble conference table.
At the head of the table sat Victoria Vance.
She had exchanged her evening gown for an immaculate cream-colored designer suit. Her hair was swept back in an elegant twist, and not a single flaw marred her porcelain makeup. In front of her lay the corporate charter, waiting for her signature to assume full executive authority over the seventy-billion-dollar conglomerate.
""Gentlemen, and distinguished board members,"" Victoria’s attorney spoke from her right side, tapping his pen on the polished mahogany. ""Given the tragic passing of our founder Julian Vance, and the unfortunate... instability of his former associates, Mrs. Victoria Vance represents the sole continuous pillar of this enterprise. We ask for a unanimous vote of confirmation.""
Several older directors exchanged uncomfortable glances. One of them, an elderly man named Arthur Campbell, raised his hand. ""Victoria, there have been disturbing rumors all morning regarding an incident at your country estate. The police radio was buzzing with an Amber Alert, and now there are reports of an armed pursuit on Interstate 95. Where is Julian's grandson?""
Victoria’s lips curved into a practiced, sorrowful smile. ""Arthur, it breaks my heart to say this, but the child’s mother was mentally unstable. She absconded into the night with a violent drifter. Our private security attempted to assist local law enforcement, but... the outcome was tragic. The child is no longer with us.""
A collective murmur of shock and horror swept around the table. Arthur Campbell lowered his head, pressing his hand against his forehead. ""My God... that poor boy.""
""Yes, it is a profound tragedy,"" Victoria sighed, picking up an antique fountain pen. ""Which is why we must provide stability to the markets. If you will all sign the succession resolution, I will personally establish a five-hundred-million-dollar charity in the boy’s name.""
She leaned forward, the nib of the pen hovering half an inch above the signature line.
Suddenly, the heavy double frosted-glass doors at the end of the boardroom burst open with a resounding bang that shook the glass chandeliers above.
Every head snapped around in unison.
Conan Vance walked through the doorway. He was still wearing his dirt-stained maroon shirt and leather jacket, dried blood visible on his knuckles, his dark eyes burning with cold, predatory fury.
Walking beside him was Elena, carrying baby Leo securely in her arms. Behind them walked Sarah Mercer, flanked by four uniformed federal marshals and two agents from the Department of Justice.
May you like
Victoria’s pen froze in mid-air. Her face drained of all color, the aristocratic mask slipping to reveal naked, feral terror.
""You're late for the vote, Victoria,"" Conan announced, his voice echoing across the silent boardroom like a death sentence.
