Chapter 4 - Breakfast and Ultimatums
The morning sun cast long, sharp shadows across the Manhattan skyline, piercing through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Tribeca penthouse.
I sat at the minimalist quartz dining table, scrolling through a dossier my private investigator had compiled overnight. Across from me, Anna sat nursing a cup of black coffee I had forced her to drink. Sophia and Samuel were currently fast asleep in the guest suite down the hall, having exhausted themselves through days of trauma and sudden displacement.
"The shell corporation that bought your apartment building," I said without looking up from the tablet, "is a subsidiary of Vanguard Holdings."
Anna choked slightly on her coffee, setting the mug down with a sharp clatter. "Vanguard? That's your primary competitor's parent company. Richard Vance's firm."
"Bingo," I murmured. "Richard Vance wants my seat, and he wants the Wellington Grand merger to fail so his group can buy up the assets at a fraction of their value. They didn't just evict random tenants; they targeted Wellington Grand employees who lived in rent-stabilized buildings owned by their shell companies, hoping to manufacture internal chaos."
"And Greg was their inside man," Anna said, her voice steadying as anger replaced fear. "He was working for them the whole time."
"He was their wedge," I agreed, locking the tablet screen. "Which means today, we pull it out."
Before Anna could reply, my private line rang. It wasn't my secretary or my legal counsel. It was Richard Vance himself.
I hit speakerphone and tossed the device onto the center of the table so Anna could hear every word.
"Julian," Vance’s smooth, oily voice filled the quiet room. "I trust you slept well? Though, judging by the financial blogs this morning, your night was a bit more crowded than usual."
"Cut the act, Richard," I replied, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. "The leak came from your proxy shell corporation. The photos were taken by a disgruntled employee you bribed through an offshore account."
There was a brief, sharp pause on the other end of the line. Then Vance chuckled, low and confident.
"You always were too fast for your own good, Martin. But it doesn't matter what you know. By noon today, the board is holding an emergency vote to strip you of your CEO title due to 'gross negligence and moral turpitude.' Those photos of the housekeeper's children in your bed are already on the front page of the Financial Times."
"You think a scandal is going to scare me?"
"I think you're standing alone, Julian," Vance mocked. "You've got no family, no allies left on the board, and a tarnished reputation. Hand over the Wellington Grand shares by ten o'clock, and maybe we'll let you resign quietly."
"Keep dreaming, Richard," I said, and ended the call with a single tap.
Anna stared at me, her face pale once more. "Ten o'clock? That's in forty-five minutes. If the board votes—"
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"They won't," I interrupted, standing up and grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair. "Because we aren't waiting for them to summon us. We're walking into the boardroom together."
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