Chapter 7 - The Execution of Article Five
Beatrice stood up so fast her leather chair rolled back against the acoustic wall with a sharp thud.
"Julian! How dare you bring these children into an executive session!" Beatrice hissed, her fingers clawing at the edge of the table. "You have no legal standing to convene this board until your appointment is ratified by the trust committee!"
"The trust committee was dissolved at midnight, Mother," Julian replied, pulling a certified document from his coat pocket and sliding it across the table.
Julian Vance—not related to the family, but the senior probate attorney who had represented the General for thirty years—stepped into the room behind Clara, carrying three identical leather-bound briefs.
"Per Article Five of the Thomas Vance Living Trust," Attorney Julian announced, his voice echoing off the glass walls, "all voting rights and executive authority transfer immediately to Julian Vance upon his thirtieth birthday, contingent solely upon the verification of direct lineal descendants."
The attorney gestured toward the four boys standing quietly beside Clara.
"The genetic verifications were filed with the probate court at 8:00 AM this morning. Judge Martinez signed the Certificate of Succession thirty minutes ago. Captain Julian Vance is now the sole Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Vance Industries."
A collective, stunned silence fell over the room.
Arthur Sterling cleared his throat nervously, picking up his briefcase. "Beatrice... my firm is withdrawing its capital partnership proposal effective immediately. We cannot be associated with these... irregularities."
"Arthur, wait!" Beatrice pleaded, reaching out a trembling hand.
Sterling didn't look back. He slipped through the side door, followed by two other independent directors who recognized that the old regime had just been executed in broad daylight.
Julian stepped closer to his mother, looking down into her wide, terrified eyes.
"You have thirty minutes to clear your personal effects from this office, Beatrice," Julian said, dropping the title of 'Mother' entirely.
"Julian... you can't do this to me," Beatrice whimpered, tears of self-pity finally cutting through her heavy makeup. "I'm your mother! I raised you! I built this company after your father died!"
"You didn't build this company, Beatrice," Julian whispered, leaning down so only she could hear the words.
"You looted it. You forged official military casualty records. You bribed foreign consular officials. And you left four infants to starve in a foreign country so you could keep a corner office."
He stepped back, turning to the two former Marines standing by the door.
"Escort Mrs. Vance to the ground floor. If she attempts to access the corporate servers or remove any company records, notify the FBI field office immediately."
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The two men stepped forward. Beatrice looked around the room at the nine remaining board members—men who had kissed her ring for twenty years—and found only cold, averted eyes.
She pulled her fur coat tightly around her shoulders, lifted her chin in a pathetic, broken parody of pride, and marched out of the boardroom without looking at her son, without looking at Clara, and without looking at the four grandchildren whose lives she had tried to erase.
