Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Ambush
At 11:45 AM, I walked through the revolving glass doors of Vance Industries tower. Dressed in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit with my silver cufflinks gleaming, I looked every bit the corporate executive my father had trained me to be. The security guards at the front desk stiffened and nodded respectfully; they still answered to my operational badge, even if the board was trying to strip my titles.
When I stepped out onto the forty-second floor, the executive waiting room was dead silent.
Lucas was pacing near the mahogany double doors of the main boardroom, looking flushed and nervous. He wore a designer velvet blazer that cost more than a month's rent for an average family, but his fingers were twitching as he scrolled through his phone.
“You’re insane, Daniel,” Lucas hissed, stepping into my path as I approached the doors. “Mom is furious. She’s going to strip you of your vice presidency, and every penny of your trust will be reallocated to my foundation. You threw everything away for a girl who doesn’t even come from money.”
I stopped, looking down at my younger brother with absolute pity.
“Lucas,” I said, my voice cutting through the corridor like a scalpel. “Did you know that wire fraud involving corporate shell companies carries a federal sentence of up to twenty years? Did Mom happen to mention that little detail when she had you sign off on those Meridian Wellness transfers?”
Lucas’s face drained of color. The phone in his hand slipped an inch before he tightened his grip. “What... what are you talking about? I didn't sign anything illegal. Mom handled the restructuring.”
“Go home, Lucas,” I whispered, stepping past him. “Pour yourself a drink and pray the investigators look at you as a manipulated pawn rather than a primary conspirator. Because right now, you’re the weak link.”
I pushed the heavy mahogany doors open and walked into the boardroom.
The room smelled of expensive leather, cold coffee, and tension. Around the long glass conference table sat the five senior board members—all elderly loyalists appointed by my father decades ago—and at the head sat my mother, Victoria Vance. She wore a structured emerald blazer, her silver hair pinned into a flawless chignon, her expression a mask of absolute authority.
“Glad you could join us, Daniel,” my mother said, not looking up as she adjusted a golden fountain pen between her fingers. “We were just discussing your immediate suspension for erratic behavior, spousal abandonment, and unauthorized removal of historical family property from the ancestral estate.”
I didn’t take the designated seat opposite her. Instead, I walked to the head of the table, pulled out a flash drive from my breast pocket, and slotted it into the media console connector.
“There’s been a slight change of agenda, Mother,” I said, pressing a button on the remote.
May you like
Behind her, the massive wall-mounted LED screen flickered to life, illuminating the room in a harsh blue glow. It didn’t display the board's proposed termination motion. Instead, it displayed a clean, highly detailed forensic flowchart titled: Vance Family Trust & Subsidiary Embezzlement Analysis: Q1-Q3.
Victoria’s pen snapped in half between her fingers.
