1272 The Billionaire Chairwoman’s Revenge: He Publicly Mocked My Pregnancy At His Promotion Gala—Until I Walked On Stage, Seized His Empire, And Fired Him As His Boss

The rain was lashing against the glass of the Sterling Tower boardroom when the clock struck 11:30 PM.

The room was not empty.

Sitting around the oval mahogany table were seven of the eleven board members, called into an emergency executive session by none other than Jonathan Vance.

Jonathan was wearing a fresh suit, but no amount of Italian tailoring could conceal the desperate, cornered madness in his eyes. He had spent the last four hours drinking scotch in his former corner office, clutching a legal memorandum Eleanor had drafted before her world imploded at the courthouse.

"She’s out of the country or hiding," Jonathan was saying, his voice slurred, pacing behind the head of the table. "The media is ripping her apart. We have the emergency proxy from Geneva! If we vote right now to declare the chair vacant due to gross dereliction of duty, the institutional investors will back us by morning!"

"Jonathan, sit down," muttered Arthur Davies, the oldest board member and my father's former CFO. Davies looked exhausted, his tie loosened, watching Jonathan with undisguised pity and disgust. "The court hearing was stayed. We all saw the news. Judge Vance is being investigated by the First Department. Your mother isn't answering her phone. This is suicide."

"My mother is regrouping!" Jonathan shouted, slamming his palm against the table, rattling the crystal water glasses. "We have the votes! Geneva Heritage controls thirty-five percent! With my shares and Donald’s bloc, we have fifty-four percent of the voting equity! We don't need my mother, and we don't need Victoria! We take the vote *now*!"

"Call the roll, Jonathan," a quiet voice spoke from the shadows near the entrance.

Every head in the room whipped around.

I stepped out of the private executive elevator, flanked by Frank and Elena. Behind us walked Henri Dumont, his overcoat damp from the rain, his expression grim and completely detached.

Jonathan froze, his eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as if he were seeing a ghost. "Victoria... what is he doing here?"

"Mr. Vance," Henri Dumont said, his European accent cold and clinical as he stepped forward to the center of the room. "As the senior representative of Geneva Heritage Partners, I am here to formally announce the immediate nullification of all outstanding proxies issued under the 1998 covenant."

The board members gasped. Arthur Davies sat up straight, his eyes darting between Dumont and me.

"What?" Jonathan choked out, staggering backward against the credenza. "No! You can't do that! Eleanor gave you the authorization!"

"Mrs. Vance has no legal authority to direct Geneva Heritage," Dumont said smoothly, pulling a signed document from his coat and laying it squarely in front of Davies. "Furthermore, after an exhaustive internal audit conducted this evening, Geneva Heritage has declared all contracts negotiated under Jonathan Vance’s interim tenure to be tainted by material fraud. We are revoking our credit facility with Vance Enterprises effective immediately."

Jonathan turned pale. "Vance Enterprises? That’s... that’s my private holding company! If you revoke that, my personal debt calls immediately!"

"Precisely," Dumont said. "You have until nine o'clock tomorrow morning to remit forty-two million dollars to our Zurich branch, Mr. Vance. If you fail to do so, our legal team in London will initiate involuntary bankruptcy proceedings against you personally."

Jonathan’s knees buckled. He grabbed the edge of the credenza to keep from collapsing onto the floor. "You... you can't do this to me. Victoria, please! We were together for five years! I loved you!"

"You loved the Sterling name, Jonathan," I said, walking slowly toward the head of the table. Every board member hastily pulled back their chairs, making way for me as if parting for a monarch.

I took my seat at the head of the table, resting my hands over my belly.

"You loved the jet. You loved the penthouse. You loved the corner office," I said, looking at him with neither hatred nor anger, only the cold, absolute clarity of someone looking at garbage that needed to be discarded. "And when you realized you could never truly own me, you tried to steal my child to keep your hands on the vault."

"It was my mother!" Jonathan sobbed, completely breaking down in front of the board, tears streaming through the makeup on his face. "She told me Alexander’s child was an insult to the Vance family! She told me if I didn't claim the baby, she would cut me out of her will! She made me forge the clinic documents, Victoria! It was all Eleanor!"

"And you were coward enough to obey her," I replied softly.

I turned to Arthur Davies. "Arthur, call the question on the motion to terminate all remaining Vance advisory contracts and initiate civil asset forfeiture for the embezzled funds."

Davies didn't hesitate for a second. "All in favor?"

Every single hand at the table went into the air.

"The motion carries unanimously," Davies said, his voice firm.

"Frank," I said, not even looking back at Jonathan. "Have security escort Mr. Vance out of the building. Revoke his security badge, his parking pass, and his biometric access. If he sets foot on any Sterling Global property again, have him arrested for criminal trespass."

"Victoria, no! Please! Just talk to me!" Jonathan screamed as Frank grabbed him by the upper arm, hauling him toward the service elevator like an unruly child. His pathetic cries echoed down the hallway until the heavy doors slid shut, cutting him off forever.

I turned back to the remaining board members.