Chapter 11 - The Corporate Coup
I didn't wait for the guards to terminate the visit. I dropped the receiver and walked out into the biting wind, Victoria’s hysterical cackling ringing in my ears.
I immediately dialed my father’s direct line. It went straight to voicemail.
I called the headquarters of Morrison Global Logistics. The receptionist’s voice trembled when she answered. "Ms. Morrison... you need to come to the board room immediately. Mr. Morrison had an emergency board meeting called twenty minutes ago. A hostile proxy has triggered an emergency audit."
I threw my car into gear and sped through the city, running two yellow lights, my heart slamming violently against my ribs.
When the private elevator opened on the 48th floor of the Morrison Tower, the atmosphere was chaotic. Secretaries were frantically shredding papers; junior executives were whispering in clusters; and armed private security guards wearing unfamiliar gray badges were stationed outside the boardroom doors.
"You can't go in there, ma'am," one of the guards said, stepping into my path.
"Touch me and I will have you indicted for obstruction of corporate premises," I snarled, stepping past his shoulder with such sudden authority that he instinctively yielded.
I pushed the heavy doors open.
Inside, twenty board members sat in deafening silence. At the far head of the mahogany table, sitting in my father's customary leather armchair, was a man in his late fifties. He had silver hair cut with razor-sharp precision, cold sapphire eyes, and wore a bespoke charcoal suit that radiated absolute power.
Malcolm Sterling.
At the other end of the table sat my father, pale, trembling, with his legal team huddled behind him in defeat.
"Ah, the errant daughter arrives," Malcolm spoke, his voice smooth, cultured, and devoid of warmth. "Please, Eleanor, pull up a chair. We were just concluding the vote on the immediate suspension of Arthur Morrison as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer."
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"This meeting is illegal," I snapped, striding toward the center of the table. "Board bylaws require seventy-two hours' written notice before an emergency vote of no confidence."
Malcolm smirked, sliding a thick blue leather portfolio across the polished wood toward me. "Not when forty-one percent of the voting shares are transferred via a legally binding post-nuptial deed of settlement."
