Chapter 48 - The Boardroom Massacre
We survived the emergency landing through sheer pilot instinct and Ethan’s split-second emergency override, skidding onto a private airstrip on the outskirts of Chicago. There was no time to bleed, no time to rest.
By 8:00 AM, the sun was trying to breach the thick, ash-grey clouds over the Loop. The grand skyscraper of Sterling-Vance Headquarters stood tall against the skyline, surrounded by news vans, flashing police lights, and hundreds of frantic reporters.
Inside the executive boardroom on the 80th floor, the atmosphere was suffocating. Twelve board members sat around the polished mahogany table, muttering in hushed, panicked tones. They believed Ethan was a traitor and I was bankrupt.
The heavy double doors burst open.
I walked in first, wearing a tailored charcoal suit, my head held high. Ethan stepped in right behind me, looking every bit the dangerous, untamed predator they had spent ten years fearing.
"Good morning, gentlemen," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. "I believe you called an emergency vote to strip my chairmanship?"
Donald Vance—my late father’s former partner and a man I had trusted like an uncle—stood up, his face pale. "Victoria... Ethan... the media reports from Geneva... we thought—"
"You thought I was dead," Ethan interrupted, his deep voice slicing through the air like a razor blade. He walked around the table, placing a heavy black folder in front of Donald. "And you thought your private communications with the Board of Shadows would never see the light of day."
Donald froze, his hands trembling as he stared at the folder.
"Donald was the mole," I said, looking around the room at the stunned faces of the board. "He leaked our security passcodes. He placed the target on my children. And at 9:00 AM today, he planned to hand over our entire proprietary AI infrastructure to the syndicate."
"You have no proof!" Donald blustered, sweat dripping down his temple. "This is a witch hunt!"
Ethan reached down, snatched Donald’s phone from the table, and smashed it face-up onto the glass table. "The micro-chip from Geneva just decrypted your personal bank accounts in Zurich, Donald. Five hundred million dollars transferred two hours ago. You're done."
Four federal marshals walked into the boardroom. As Donald was handcuffed and led away screaming, I looked at the remaining eleven board members.
May you like
"Any other objections to my leadership?" I asked quietly.
Silence swept the room. Not a single hand was raised.
