Chapter 5 - The War Room
While Luca was frantic on Wacker Drive, Elena was sitting in a high-backed leather chair on the twenty-eighth floor of the Prudential Building, overlooking Grant Park.
The suite belonged to Pendelton, Vance & Associates—one of the oldest and most formidable estate law firms in the Midwest.
Around the long glass conference table sat six senior partners, two forensic accountants, and three union directors representing the tugboat operators, longshoremen, and crane operators of the Great Lakes.
Elena wore a dark charcoal suit dress that comfortably accommodated her thirty-two-week bump. Her hair was pulled back into a neat, low bun, and her skin, though pale, was devoid of any trace of tear stains.
"Mrs. Vital—" one of the accountants began.
"Miss Rossi," Elena corrected smoothly, her voice firm. "I no longer use that surname."
"My apologies, Miss Rossi," the accountant bowed his head slightly. "According to our preliminary audit of Vital Logistics' filings from the past fiscal year, Luca Vital has diverted approximately forty-two million dollars from the Rossi Maritime pension reserve into a network of offshore shell accounts registered in Panama."
"He was using our cash reserves to service his own firm's debt," Elena said, placing her coffee cup down. "He bought three container ships from a Greek conglomerate last spring at twice their market value. He needed our liquidity to avoid defaulting on his primary loans with Bank of America."
"Precisely," Arthur Pendelton agreed from the head of the table. "And if he had successfully forced the merger through your forged power of attorney, the debt would have been legally assigned to Rossi Maritime, shielding his personal holdings entirely."
Frank "Big Mac" MacIntyre, the broad-shouldered leader of the Longshoremen’s Local 101, leaned forward, resting his massive tattooed forearms on the glass table.
"Your dad was a good man, Elena," MacIntyre said, his deep voice filling the quiet room. "When my kid had leukemia twelve years ago, Julian paid for his treatment out of his own pocket and never asked for a dime back. Every man on the docks knows who built those terminals. Luca Vital thinks he can walk around like a king because he wears three-thousand-dollar suits, but without our guys running those cranes, his ships are nothing but expensive scrap metal floating in the river."
"Thank you, Frank," Elena said, offering a warm, genuine smile. "I don't intend to let him hold those docks for another week."
"What is your command, Miss Rossi?" MacIntyre asked.
Elena leaned back in her chair, placing her hands lightly over her stomach.
"Let the ships sit," Elena said flatly. "Every hour those container vessels remain unloaded costs Vital Logistics two hundred thousand dollars in demurrage penalties. By Friday, the shipping lines in Rotterdam and Shanghai will cancel his carrier contracts."
"And what about your sister?" Arthur asked softly. "She holds a nominal three percent non-voting share in the legacy trust."
Elena’s expression didn't flicker. "Revoke her trust allowance immediately. Change the security codes on her apartment building—the building is owned by the Rossi Property Management Group. If she wants her belongings, she can request them through formal legal channels."
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The room went quiet. The partners exchanged subtle, approving nods.
Julian Rossi’s daughter was no longer a quiet socialite decorating mansions on the North Shore. She was her father’s daughter—decisive, ruthless when pressed, and entirely unyielding.
