Chapter 7 - A Dangerous Alliance
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Grayson bolted to his feet, knocking his crystal water goblet onto the polished table. The water spread across the leather blotters, soaking into the legal documents awaiting signature. "You're insane! She’s delirious, Father! She broke into the carriage house last night, stole confidential family records, and assaulted me!"
Elena glanced nervously between Grayson and me, her perfectly glossed lips parting in shock. Her eyes flicked toward Lucas, standing by the door with his arms crossed, and a momentary flicker of shame crossed her features.
"Vivian," Marcus said, his voice entirely unbothered, as if swishing a fly away from a vintage wine. "Grief can do terrible things to a young woman's mind. We made allowances for your erratic behavior last night at the gala. But slander of this magnitude is actionable. Take your seat, or leave the premises before I have the police escort you to a psychiatric facility."
I smiled. It was not a warm smile; it was the cold, lethal expression of a player who holds the winning hand.
I reached into my leather briefcase and pulled out twelve identical bound folders. I laid them on the table and slid them down the polished surface toward the board members.
"Gentlemen, ladies," I addressed the room, ignoring Marcus completely. "Before you vote to ratify the acquisition of Sterling Marine, please turn to page four. You will find certified bank records from Banque Cantonale de Genève. Account number 884-Bravo, registered under *Aegis Holdings*."
Several board members picked up the folders with furrowed brows. Old Arthur Pendelton, my father’s oldest colleague on the board, adjusted his spectacles, his expression turning from irritation to pale horror as he read.
"What is this?" Pendelton gasped, looking up at Marcus. "Marcus... these transfers... eighty million dollars transferred out of the Sterling Pension Fund into an offshore holding company right before Christopher’s death? With your personal authorization stamp?"
"It’s a fabrication!" Grayson shouted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "She forged it! She’s working with that disgraced mercenary at the door to blackmail us!"
"Every document has been authenticated by the Federal Department of Justice," I countered, looking Marcus straight in the eye. "Special Agent Miller opened a criminal investigation forty minutes ago. The Grand Jury has already been empaneled."
Marcus Whitaker didn't shout. He didn't lose his temper. But the color slowly drained from his weathered face, leaving his eyes dark, sunken pits of hatred. He slowly set down his gold fountain pen on the table.
"You think you’re very clever, Vivian," Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying a chill that sent shivers down the spines of the other board members. "You think you can dismantle forty years of dynasty with a stack of old papers."
"I don't need forty years, Marcus," I whispered. "I only needed forty minutes. Look out the window."
Down in the plaza below, through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Obsidian Room, flashing blue and red lights reflected off the marble fountains. Five black government sedans had just pulled up to the front entrance of the Grand Meridian, cutting off the driveway.
Panic erupted around the board table. Members began standing up, shoving their chairs back, whispering furiously into their phones.
"This meeting is adjourned!" Marcus barked, slamming his palm against the mahogany. He turned his venomous gaze toward Elena. "Elena, get the private jet prepped at Teterboro. Now!"
Elena froze. She looked down at the document in front of her, then looked at Lucas. Her hands began to shake. "Marcus... they have the federal flight manifests too. The FAA has grounded all Whitaker corporate aircraft."
Grayson grabbed Elena’s arm, his grip bruising. "You idiot! What do you mean grounded?! Call our pilot!"
"Let go of her, Grayson," a soft, dangerous voice commanded.
Lucas had stepped away from the door. He walked directly up to the head of the table, his physical presence dominating the space. He looked at his sister, then down at Grayson’s hand on her arm.
"Let. Go."
May you like
Grayson released Elena as if burned by fire. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the glass window, staring at Lucas like a condemned man staring at the executioner.
***
