Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
The boardroom was as silent as a tomb.
Every board member sat paralyzed, looking back and forth between the quiet, powerful old man at the head of the table and the ruined, trembling family sitting across from him.
“Samuel,” I commanded gently.
“Yes, Baldric?”
“Read the board resolutions,” I said.
Samuel pulled three red-stamped legal documents from his folder and began to read with cold, mechanical precision.
“Resolution One,” Samuel stated. “By virtue of super-majority voting control, Mr. Roger Vance is hereby removed from his position as Chief Executive Officer and Chairman of the Board of Vance Enterprises, effective immediately. All executive privileges, corporate credit accounts, and company-owned vehicles are revoked as of 9:15 AM today.”
Roger let out a low, gut-wrenching groan, burying his face in his trembling hands.
“Resolution Two,” Samuel continued smoothly. “The master operating contract between Apex Logistics and Vance Enterprises is permanently terminated for material breach of ethics. Apex will cease all freight movements for Vance facilities worldwide.”
“That will destroy us!” Arthur Vance screamed, standing up in terror. “The company will be bankrupt by Monday!”
“Resolution Three,” Samuel announced, ignoring the outburst. “Crestview Holdings hereby exercises its legal right under the defaulted debt note to seize all pledged collateral—including the commercial real estate, the manufacturing facilities, and the residential property located at 1200 Oakridge Estate Drive.”
Derek snapped his head up, horror filling his eyes. “My house?! You’re taking my house?!”
“It is not your house, Derek,” Arianne spoke up softly, looking him dead in the eye. “It was mortgaged through your father’s corporate line of credit. A line of credit that belongs to my father’s trust.”
“You can't throw us out!” Bertha screamed, tears of rage smearing her makeup. “Where are we supposed to live?!”
“I suggest you find a small apartment,” I said flatly, looking at Bertha. “Perhaps one with working locks.”
I stood up from the executive chair.
The entire room watched me. I buttoned my grey wool jacket, adjusting my cuffs.
“There is one final matter,” I said, looking down at Derek.
Derek flinched, pulling back into his leather chair as if he expected me to physically strike him.
“At 10:00 AM today,” I said, “Detectives from the Special Victims Division arrived at the estate with a grand jury indictment for aggravated assault, domestic battery, and unlawful restraint. The evidence kit from St. Jude’s Hospital was submitted yesterday afternoon. There will be no bail bond this time, Derek. My legal team has ensured that your flight-risk status will keep you in county jail until your trial.”
Two uniformed police officers stepped through the boardroom doors behind Samuel.
Derek’s eyes went wide with pure, pathetic terror. “Dad! Dad, help me! Don't let them take me! Dad!”
Roger Vance sat in his chair, staring blankly at the polished mahogany table, completely unable to speak or move. He didn't even raise his head as the officers stepped up behind Derek, pulled his arms behind his back, and clicked cold iron handcuffs around his wrists.
“Dad! Mom!” Derek sobbed, hysterically flailing his legs as the officers dragged him backward out of the boardroom. “Dad! Help me!”
Bertha ran after them into the hallway, weeping and screaming hysterically, her expensive silk handkerchief falling onto the floor behind her.
I walked down the length of the boardroom table, holding Arianne’s hand securely in mine.
At the door, I paused and turned back to look at Roger, who was sitting alone in the empty room amidst the ruins of his legacy.
“You told me four nights ago that I was just an old man who didn't belong in your world, Roger,” I said softly.
May you like
Roger raised his hollow, weeping eyes to look at me one last time.
“You were right,” I said. “I don't belong in your world. I own it.”
