Chapter 5 - The Fall of the Parasites
The boardroom descended into absolute, magnificent chaos.
Marcus instantly burst into pathetic tears, dropping to his knees beside the mahogany table and holding his hands above his head. “I didn't do anything! I was just following my mother’s orders! Please don't shoot me!”
“Marcus, stand up and keep your mouth shut!” Vivian screamed, her face contorted into a mask of pure, unbridled rage as an FBI agent stepped up behind her and snapped steel handcuffs around her manicured wrists.
She thrashed against the agent’s grip, her dark eyes glaring at me with a lethal, venomous hatred that could have burned through steel.
“You think you’ve won, Isabella?!” Vivian spat out, her expensive hair coming loose from its polished pin as she was forced toward the door. “You’re nothing! You’re just Eleanor’s pathetic, grieving little shadow! Your father is a broken old invalid! He will die in a wheelchair, and you will spend the rest of your life cleaning up his mess!”
I stood completely still in the center of the boardroom, watching her struggle against the handcuffs with calm, absolute detachment.
“My father will walk again, Vivian,” I said softly, my voice carrying over her screeching. “He will walk into this boardroom next month and reclaim his seat at the head of this table. But you... you will spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary in Fort Worth, wearing a orange jumpsuit, eating prison meals from a plastic tray.”
I stepped closer to her as the agent pulled her past me.
“And every single night when you lie down on your thin foam mattress,” I whispered into her ear, “I want you to remember four words.”
Vivian froze, her chest heaving as she glared at me from inches away.
“What words?!” she hissed out.
“He chose me, Vivian,” I said, a small, triumphant smile touching my lips. “My father built this empire for me. Not for a parasite.”
Vivian let out a strangled, furious shriek as the agents dragged her out of the boardroom, her heels dragging uselessly across the carpet, followed closely by a weeping Marcus and a mute Arthur Vance.
The heavy glass doors clicked shut behind them.
Silence descended upon the eighteenth floor once again.
The remaining board members stood up from their chairs, looking at me with a profound, newfound respect. Robert Sterling walked up to me, tears shining in his aged eyes, and extended his broad hand toward me.
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“Isabella,” Robert said, his voice thick with emotion. “On behalf of the entire board of Hale Construction... welcome back home.”
I took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you, Uncle Robert. Now... let's get to work fixing this company.”
