Chapter 7 - Emergency Injunction
By midnight, the storm had battered the shores of Lake Washington into a restless frenzy, matching the tension inside the estate's private conference room.
Arthur’s senior legal counsel, an elderly, sharp-eyed attorney named David Vance—no relation to my ex-husband—sat across from us, reviewing the digital documents we had extracted from Vance’s encrypted files. Spread across the mahogany table were bank routing numbers, offshore shell company registries, and signed compliance waivers bearing Marcus Thorne’s digital signature.
"This is direct evidence of corporate conspiracy and embezzlement," David said, adjusting his spectacles as he stared at the glowing screen. "If we hand this over to federal prosecutors, Thorne’s entire faction collapses overnight. But there’s a catch."
"Of course there is," Arthur murmured, leaning back in his leather chair. "Nothing with Thorne is ever clean."
"The emergency injunction," David explained, tapping a legal document on the desk. "Thorne didn't wait for morning. His legal team filed an emergency motion with the state supreme court two hours ago, claiming that your sudden introduction of an unverified heir—excuse me, Chloe—violates corporate governance clauses regarding undisclosed familial assets. They’ve frozen the primary trust accounts. Until a judge rules on the injunction tomorrow afternoon, you cannot legally transfer or encumber any Sterling shares."
I folded my arms, looking down at the paperwork. "They’re trying to starve us out legally before the truth comes to light."
"Worse," David warned. "If the court accepts Thorne's framing, the board will vote tomorrow morning to invoke the 'moral turpitude' clause against Arthur, stripping him of executive chairmanship permanently. Without Arthur's signature, your bloodline claim remains trapped in probate for years."
"They want to buy time," I said quietly, pacing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "While they clean up the digital footprint and make Vance disappear for good."
"We can't fight this purely in a courtroom," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a low, commanding tone. "If we rely on the courts, Thorne's influence within the judicial committees will stall us until it's too late. We have to strike at the root."
"How?" I asked, turning to face him. "Thorne is barricaded behind his own private security team at the downtown Sterling Tower penthouse. We can't just walk in there."
"No," Arthur agreed, a faint, grim smile touching the corner of his mouth. "We don't walk in. But we don't stay hidden either. Chloe, do you trust me?"
"With my life," I said without hesitation. "And with Noah's."
"Then we use the board's own rules against them," Arthur said, reaching for his phone. "Thorne called an emergency session for nine o'clock tomorrow morning at corporate headquarters. He expects me to show up desperate, defensive, and isolated. Instead, we are going to change the guest list."
"What are you planning?" David asked, looking alarmed.
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"I am going to bring my daughter to the boardroom," Arthur said coldly. "And she is going to present her own credentials as a voting member of the Sterling Foundation. Let Thorne try to throw out a mother protecting her child in front of the entire press corps."
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