Chapter 105 - Invasion of the Citadel
By 7:30 AM, the sun rose over Chicago, breaking through the storm clouds in sharp streaks of amber and grey. The eighty-story glass tower of Sterling-Vance Headquarters stood tall against the skyline, surrounded by dozens of satellite news trucks and hundreds of shouting reporters.
Inside the grand marble lobby, security guards stood nervously as a fleet of four blacked-out Lincoln Continentals pulled up to the front entrance.
Alexander Blackwood stepped out of the lead vehicle, flanked by six imposing men in dark suits and a team of high-powered corporate attorneys. He wore a midnight-blue bespoke suit, his razor-sharp jawline and jagged neck scar giving him an aura of ruthless authority.
As Alexander entered the lobby, the heavy glass doors opened behind him.
I walked in right behind him, wearing a tailored obsidian suit, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. Ethan walked beside me, towering, majestic, and utterly lethal in his stance, with Marcus following closely behind carrying our legal dossiers.
The reporters went wild, flashbulbs exploding like a storm of white light.
Alexander stopped near the express elevators, turning around with a smooth, mocking smile. "Good morning, Victoria. You're looking radiant for someone whose empire is about to be liquidated."
"Save the pleasantries, Alexander," I said, stopping three feet in front of him, my head held high, meeting his gaze without a single flicker of fear. "You've been dead for ten years. You look remarkably well for a ghost."
Alexander chuckled, stepping a inch closer, his dark eyes scanning my face with uncomfortable familiarity. "I missed your fire, my dear. But the legal reality is absolute. As of eight o'clock, the judge signed the order. I hold sixty percent of the voting trust. You are officially removed as Chairwoman."
"You hold a piece of paper signed by a dead man ten years ago," Ethan stepped forward, his massive frame completely cutting off Alexander's line of sight to me. Ethan’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble: "Touch her, or touch this company, and I will personally introduce you to what happens when ghosts try to fight living men."
May you like
Alexander’s smile faltered slightly as he looked up at Ethan, feeling the raw, physical threat radiating from my husband. "Ah, Ethan Vance. The thirty-dollar bodyguard who got lucky. Enjoy your final hours in the penthouse, Vance. Security is escorting you off the premises in ten minutes."
"Try it," Ethan whispered coldly.
