Chapter 6 - The Boardroom Confrontation
The boardroom at Holt Table headquarters was normally a place of quiet, orderly authority. Designed with dark walnut paneling, floor-to-ceiling views of the Chicago skyline, and an eighteen-foot marble conference table, it was built to convey absolute stability.
Today, however, the room was thick with tension.
Darius sat at the head of the table, his physical condition deteriorating by the hour. The scalding soup had left a raw, red patch along his neck, and he had been forced to wear an ill-fitting suit after his personal wardrobe at the townhouse was locked by a court order he didn't yet fully understand.
Beside him sat Leila, frantically answering emails on her phone, while five remaining board members sat in uncomfortable silence.
“We still have the operational assets,” Darius was saying, his voice rough as he tried to maintain an air of control. “The media coverage is temporary. People love a scandal, but they love our food more. We release a public statement today expressing concern for Noel’s mental health, frame the incident as a tragic personal breakdown, and—”
The double doors at the end of the boardroom swung open.
Two uniformed officers from the Cook County Sheriff’s Department stepped inside, followed closely by Victoria Vance and Noel Benton.
Noel was dressed in an immaculate cream-colored pantsuit—the exact color of the dress Leila had worn the night before. Her posture was straight, her chin held high, and the slight bruise on her cheek was visible under light makeup, a quiet testament to the truth.
Darius stood up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. “What is the meaning of this?! Noel, have you lost your mind? Get out of my building!”
Victoria Vance stepped forward, pulling a stack of legal documents from her leather briefcase. “Darius Holt, you are being officially served with a petition for the dissolution of marriage, alongside a temporary restraining order issued by the Circuit Court of Cook County.”
“Restraining order?!” Darius roared, looking at the two police officers. “This is my company! I am the Chairman and CEO!”
“Not as of twenty minutes ago,” Victoria replied calmly. She tossed a copy of a judicial order onto the marble table in front of the board members. “Under Section 4B of the Holt Table corporate bylaws, a unanimous petition signed by fifty percent of equity holders triggers an immediate emergency voting session in the event of gross moral turpitude or financial fraud.”
“Fifty percent?” Leila interjected, her voice rising in pitch. “Noel only owns forty percent! Darius holds fifty-five!”
“Darius held fifty-five percent until six months ago,” Noel spoke up, her voice clear and resonant, filling every corner of the room. She walked down the length of the table, looking each board member in the eye. “Until he pledged fifteen percent of his shares as collateral to secure a private loan from an investment firm in New York—a loan he defaulted on last Tuesday.”
Darius’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His face turned a sickly, pale grey.
“I bought that debt three days ago through Benton Holdings,” Noel continued, standing directly across from him. “Which means, Darius, I now control fifty-five percent of the voting shares of this company.”
The board members began to murmur among themselves, looking at each other in shock. The lead board member, an elder statesman of Chicago finance named Thomas Vance (no relation to Victoria), cleared his throat and looked up at Noel.
“Mrs. Holt... is this legally verified?”
“The documentation is attached to the court order in front of you, Mr. Vance,” Victoria said smoothly. “Furthermore, we have submitted evidence of Mr. Holt’s systemic embezzlement from the employee pension account to the State Attorney's office. A federal warrant for his arrest is currently being drafted.”
Darius turned to Leila, his eyes wide with horror. “Leila... call the lawyers! Call the PR team! Do something!”
Leila looked at the papers on the table, then looked at Noel, whose expression was as cold and unyielding as stone. Leila slowly closed her iPad, gathered her leather handbag, and stood up.
“Leila?” Darius whispered, staring at her in disbelief.
“I’m resigning, Darius,” Leila said flatly, avoiding his gaze. “My father’s firm has already severed ties with your offshore accounts. Good luck.”
She walked toward the door, passing the police officers without looking back.
Darius sank into his chair, surrounded by the silence of the room. The board members slowly gathered their papers, stepping away from the table as if Darius were contagious.
May you like
Noel leaned over the table, placing her hands flat on the polished marble, looking down at the man who had hit her in front of forty people just thirty-six hours before.
“The soup was just the warning, Darius,” she said softly. “This is the meal.”
