Chapter 12 - Rebuilding the Throne
Three weeks later.
The morning sun cast a radiant, golden glow across Central City. Outside the seventy-story skyscraper that was the headquarters of Vance Global, hundreds of journalists, photographers, and camera crews crowded behind silver security barricades.
Today was the emergency general assembly of shareholders—the day the new ownership would be officially unveiled.
A fleet of sleek black Rolls-Royces pulled up to the red carpet entrance. The first door opened, and Raymond stepped out, swiftly scanning the perimeter with razor-sharp vigilance before opening the rear passenger door.
Damon Vance emerged. He wore a bespoke midnight-blue suit, his demeanor radiating quiet, unquestioned power.
He turned back to the car and offered his hand.
Maya stepped out onto the red carpet. She was transformed. Gone were the grease-stained catering apron and the tear-streaked face. She wore an elegant, cream-colored silk pantsuit, her curly hair styled into sophisticated, cascading waves, her posture upright, proud, and completely dignified.
Camera shutters fired in a blinding frenzy. Microphones were thrust forward over the velvet ropes.
“Mr. Vance! Is it true that you bought out ninety percent of Vance Global’s debt through the Sovereign Consortium?”
“Miss Vance! Are you taking over the family’s philanthropic foundation?”
Damon ignored the chaotic chorus, gently guiding his sister through the grand revolving doors and into the private executive elevator.
Inside the glass elevator ascending to the seventieth floor, Maya looked out over the sprawling skyline of the city that had once treated her like garbage. Her hands were still slightly cold.
Damon noticed. He reached out and gently squeezed her fingers. “Nervous?”
Maya smiled softly, a genuine, radiant smile. “A little. But for the first time in five years, Damon... I’m not afraid.”
The elevator chimed, and the heavy brass doors slid open to reveal the grand boardroom.
Sitting around the massive circular oak table were thirty of the city’s most influential institutional investors, bank presidents, and senior executives. The moment Damon and Maya walked into the room, every single executive stood up instantly, their heads bowed in deep, respectful deference.
Damon led Maya straight to the head of the table. He pulled out the master executive chair—the seat Richard and Evelyn had fought and murdered to keep—and seated Maya in it.
He then stood at her right hand, resting his palm on the high leather backrest.
“Gentlemen,” Damon announced, his voice cutting through the silent room like a blade. “Vance Global is under new management. From today onward, my sister, Maya Vance, is the Chairwoman of the Board.”
The executives burst into unanimous, thunderous applause, eager to show their unwavering loyalty to the new sovereign rulers of the empire.
Maya looked down at the boardroom table, where a single nameplate had been placed before her: Maya Vance, Chairwoman.
Tears pricked her eyes, but this time, they were tears of triumph. Her father’s name had been wiped clean, his killers were behind bars, and their family was finally whole again.
Or so she thought.
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Suddenly, Damon’s personal phone buzzed against his chest. A secure text message flashed onto the encrypted screen:
“Chairman. An unknown cargo ship docked at Harbor 4 at midnight. It’s carrying cargo registered under Arthur Vance’s old private code. Your father’s signature was verified thirty minutes ago.”
