Chapter 7 - The Hostile Takeover
The executive boardroom of Vance Realty on Michigan Avenue was twenty floors of smoked glass, polished chrome, and cold, corporate panic.
At 11:00 AM, the room was occupied by six sweating men in expensive suits—and one very shell-shocked pediatric nurse sitting at the head of the mahogany table.
Tyler Brooks stood near the window, his face the color of unbaked dough, his hands trembling as he stared at the digital projector screen displaying the corporate buyout manifest.
"This... this is an outrage!" Tyler stammered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched squeak as he pointed a shaking finger at me. "She’s a nurse! She doesn't know the first thing about commercial real estate! She can't own fifty-one percent of our voting shares!"
At the opposite end of the table sat Giovanni. He wore his tailored charcoal suit, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, looking like an apex predator observing a mouse trapped in a glass jar.
"Actually, Mr. Brooks, she can," Giovanni said smoothly, his voice cutting through Tyler’s panic like a razor blade. "Because my holding company purchased those shares on the open market yesterday afternoon and transferred them directly into my wife’s name as a token of my affection."
I sat in the oversized leather executive chair, staring down at the legal documents piled in front of me. My name was embossed in gold lettering across the primary trust deed: Jessica Hale-Fierro, Managing Trustee.
"Why, Giovanni?" I whispered, looking sideways at him. "Why did you buy Tyler's firm?"
"Because," Giovanni leaned in, his voice dropping into a low, velvet register meant only for my ears, "your ex-husband spent three years making you feel small, worthless, and financially dependent. I wanted you to have the ability to fire him before lunch."
A slow, disbelieving laugh bubbled up in my throat. I turned my head to look at Tyler, who was currently sweating through his designer shirt.
"Tyler," I said, my voice clear, steady, and carrying the absolute authority of a majority shareholder.
He flinched, turning his wide, terrified eyes toward me.
"You always told me I was bad with money," I continued, folding my hands over the mahogany table. "And you were right. I’m terrible at managing garbage. Which is why your services as senior acquisitions broker are no longer required."
"Jessica, please!" Tyler practically threw himself across the table, his composure entirely shattered. "We can talk about this! We can restructure the department! Don't throw me out on the street—my wife is pregnant, we have a baby on the way—"
"You managed to say those exact same words to me five years ago, Tyler," I interrupted coldly. "Except back then, you were walking out the door with a suitcase."
I looked up at Giovanni.
"Execute the termination clause, Mr. Fierro."
Giovanni didn't hesitate. He nodded once toward Dante, who was standing by the double doors like an immovable wall of dark wool and muscle.
"Mr. Brooks," Dante rumbled, stepping forward and placing a heavy hand on Tyler’s shoulder. "Your desk has already been cleared into a cardboard box in the lobby. Let's not make the security guards use the handcuffs."
As Tyler was hauled out of the boardroom, sobbing and protesting all the way, the remaining five vice presidents sat frozen in their leather chairs, staring at me as if I were a dragon disguised as a nurse.
"Is there any other business on the agenda?" I asked, looking around the silent table.
Nobody spoke.
May you like
Giovanni reached across the mahogany table, took my hand in his, and brought my knuckles to his lips in a slow, possessive kiss that made every executive in the room look down at their papers in abject terror.
"Meeting adjourned," Giovanni said softly.
