Chapter 9 - The Boardroom Storm
The top floor of Vane Tower was packed with international journalists, corporate board members, and high-powered lawyers. Large glass windows overlooked the East River, and television cameras were set up at the back of the grand auditorium.
At the head of the long mahogany conference table sat Richard Vane. He was sixty years old, immaculate in a bespoke navy suit, with silver hair and an air of absolute, untouchable authority.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Richard announced, leaning toward the array of microphones set up before him. “Today marks a historic transition for Vane Maritime. After eight painful years since the tragic loss of my beloved niece, Aurora, we are finally closing the chapter on the past and steering this empire into a prosperous future.”
He picked up a heavy Montblanc fountain pen, positioning it over the master acquisition contract that would transfer four billion dollars in assets to the Syndicate's shell companies.
“With this signature,” Richard declared, smiling for the flashing cameras, “the trust is officially closed.”
BOOM.
The heavy double doors of the auditorium slammed open with such force that the wood cracked against the marble pillars.
Security guards rushed forward, but they were instantly disarmed and pinned against the walls by a dozen heavily armed men in black tactical gear led by Marcus.
The crowd gasped. Reporters scrambled to turn their cameras toward the entrance.
Stepping through the threshold, dressed in an immaculate, tailor-made black suit, was Dante Serrano. His presence sent a wave of shock through the room—the rumors of his death at Pier 42 evaporated in a single second.
“Dante Serrano?” Richard sneered, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. “This is a private corporate assembly! Security, remove this criminal immediately!”
“I wouldn't advise that, Richard,” Dante said smoothly, walking down the central aisle with effortless confidence. “Besides, I’m not here as a guest. I’m simply the escort.”
Dante stepped aside and extended his hand toward the doorway.
From behind him, a woman walked into the blinding light of the flashbulbs.
She wore a breathtaking, tailored ivory suit that complemented her pale skin and short, sleek dark hair. She held her head high, walking with the undeniable poise of true royalty. Her violet eyes locked directly onto Richard Vane’s pale, horrified face.
May you like
A collective gasp echoed through the room.
“Good morning, Uncle Richard,” Aurora Vane said, her voice ringing clear, commanding, and absolute through the quiet hall. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
