Chapter 6 - Blood in the Water
The boardroom of Pierce Aero Charter was thick with tension.
Eleven men and three women sat around the twenty-foot table of solid black walnut. These were the board members Camden had spent three years wooing with golf trips to Pebble Beach, luxury suites at the Super Bowl, and hollow promises of explosive growth.
When I walked in, flanked by Julian Sterling and three federal forensic accountants, the room fell into absolute, deafening silence.
I didn't take Camden's former seat at the end of the table. I took the chairman's seat at the center, the seat my father had occupied for twenty-five years before Camden persuaded him to step aside before his death.
"Good morning, gentlemen," I began, my tone conversational and ice-cold. "As of six o'clock this morning, Camden Pierce has been formally removed from all executive roles, operational duties, and board affiliations by unanimous invocation of the moral turpitude clause in the Alden Trust Charter."
Several board members shifted uncomfortably.
Arthur Vance, a sixty-year-old venture capitalist and Camden’s chief defender, cleared his throat aggressively. "Vivian, while we sympathize with your domestic troubles, you cannot unilaterally dismiss the CEO without a full board vote. Camden may have had personal lapses, but—"
"Personal lapses?" I cut him off, signaling to Julian.
Julian stepped forward and dropped a heavy, two-hundred-page dossier directly in front of Arthur Vance. The thud echoed like a gunshot.
"Arthur," Julian said calmly. "Inside that dossier is the forensic audit of your private consulting firm, Vance Capital. It shows three million dollars in unauthorized kickbacks wired directly from Pierce Aero's jet maintenance reserves to your accounts in the Cook Islands. Camden authorized them. You rubber-stamped his offshore transfers."
Arthur’s face drained of all color. He pushed his chair back slightly, his lips trembling, unable to form words.
Before anyone else could speak, the massive digital wall screen at the head of the boardroom lit up with a low electronic chime.
An incoming satellite transmission connected.
The screen resolved into a high-rise office overlooking Marina Bay in Singapore. Sitting behind a desk of smoked glass was Marcus Alden. He was thirty-two, sharp-featured, with the same cold, steel-gray eyes as my father, but filled with a venomous ambition that had always sickened me. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit, swirling a glass of scotch.
"Hello, little sister," Marcus said, his voice coming through the state-of-the-art surround sound with chilling clarity. "I see you’ve made a mess of Camden. Truly impressive theater at the Plaza. But you always did mistake vanity for power."
I didn't flinch. I looked straight into the camera lens. "Hello, Marcus. I see you’re still hiding twelve time zones away from American jurisdiction."
"Jurisdiction doesn't matter when you own the debt, Vivian," Marcus chuckled softly, leaning back. "Camden made a deal with Apex Sovereign. He pledged forty percent of Pierce Aero's fleet as collateral for a seventy-million-dollar liquidity injection that he squandered. The loan defaulted at midnight. Under the contractual terms, Apex Sovereign has the right of immediate repossession."
The room gasped. Several board members looked ready to faint.
Marcus grinned, his teeth sharp and white. "By five o'clock tomorrow, I will have Singapore bailiffs and maritime marshals impounding your entire fleet across London, Dubai, and Miami. Your father gave you the family name, Vivian. But I am taking everything else."
I smiled. It was a slow, genuinely amused smile that caused Marcus's smirk to waver for a fraction of a second.
"Did Camden not show you the aircraft registration certificates, Marcus?" I asked softly.
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Camden leased the planes," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Every single Gulfstream, every Bombardier Global, every Cessna Citation in the fleet is not owned by Pierce Aero. They are owned by Alden Sky Holdings—a private trust registered solely under my maiden name, protected by an ironclad spendthrift trust created by our father before you were even a thought."
I picked up a document from the table and held it up to the camera.
"Pierce Aero only owned the operating licenses. Camden pledged assets he did not possess. In legal terms, Marcus, you didn't buy forty percent of my fleet. You bought seventy million dollars' worth of Camden’s criminal fraud."
Marcus's smile vanished completely. The glass in his hand froze midway to his lips.
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"And as for your Singapore holdings," I added, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "the Monetary Authority of Singapore was served with our criminal fraud affidavit ten minutes ago. Enjoy the freeze, brother. The game has just begun."
***
