Chapter 8 - The Emergency Boardroom Coup
The glass-walled executive conference room on the twentieth floor of Finch Technologies headquarters smelled of stale coffee and absolute panic.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since the federal injunctions hit, but the corporate contagion had already spread. Two junior software developers were frantically boxing up their personal items near the windows, while the head of human resources sat in the corner, staring blankly at a blank laptop screen.
When I pushed open the double glass doors, dragging Gavin behind me with a fresh stack of court-certified receivership orders, the remaining members of the board of directors looked up like trapped animals.
Among them sat Marcus Vance, the corporate defense attorney, sweating profusely through his charcoal suit jacket.
“Mrs. Finch,” Marcus stammered, standing up so fast his leather chair squeaked loudly against the polished floor. “You cannot be in here. This is a private corporate board meeting restricted to active executive officers—”
“Sit down, Marcus,” I said, walking to the head of the mahogany table and tossing a thick packet of documents right in front of him. “You’re looking at a corporate entity that is currently wholly owned and operated by the court-appointed receivership, which happens to be under my direct legal supervision. As of twelve minutes ago, Alistair Finch has been formally stripped of his CEO title, his voting shares, and his corporate indemnity.”
Murmurs of shock rippled through the remaining directors. An older board member named Henderson, who had rubber-stamped Alistair’s reckless spending for years, slammed his hand on the table.
“You can’t do that!” Henderson shouted. “Alistair is the founder! He holds the proprietary algorithms for the entire platform!”
“He held them,” I corrected smoothly, pulling out a second document and placing it beside the first. “Until he used company assets to fund a secondary household in Wayzata, committed grand larceny against a 2014 probate estate, and attempted to saddle this corporation with fraudulent personal liability guarantees.”
I leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the table and looking directly into Henderson’s panicked eyes.
“And if you, Mr. Henderson, or any other member of this board knew about the 2014 asset diversion and failed to report it to federal regulators, you aren't just losing your board seats today—you’re sharing a cell with Alistair.”
Silence fell over the boardroom like a lead weight. Marcus Vance slowly sank back into his chair, his hands trembling as he flipped open the top page of the receivership packet. The legal airtightness of the documents was undeniable; Gavin and I had spent the entire night sealing every possible loophole.
“What happens to the company now?” Henderson asked, his voice hollowed out, all arrogance completely gone.
“Finch Technologies is going into immediate restructuring,” I announced, walking toward the windows to look out over the Minneapolis skyline. “All current assets will be liquidated to repay the Monroe-Stark charitable trust and the legitimate investors Alistair defrauded. The brand, the intellectual property, and what’s left of the client base will be absorbed into a new holding entity.”
“And Alistair?” Marcus asked quietly, not daring to look up from the papers.
“Alistair is currently sitting in a holding cell at the Hennepin County detention center,” I said without turning around. “Waiting for his arraignment on federal wire fraud, embezzlement, and identity theft.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It wasn't an unknown number this time. It was a local jail facility notification.
I pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID before sliding it back into my blazer.
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“Well, gentlemen,” I said, picking up my briefcase and turning toward the exit. “If you’ll excuse me, my ex-husband’s defense attorney has some very interesting news to deliver across a glass partition.”
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