Chapter 4 - The Matriarch's DownfallAt 11:00 a.m., the grand executive boardroom on the 50th floor of the Vance Enterprises building in Midtown was packed with twenty senior shareholders, legal directors, and press representatives.
Sitting at the head of the conference table, wearing an immaculate lavender Chanel suit, sipping tea from a porcelain cup, was my stepmother, Eleanor Vance.
Beside her sat her lead corporate defense attorney, Richard Sterling.
Eleanor was forty-eight, elegant, ruthless, and had spent six years trying to push my brother and me out of our late father's company so her own son from a previous marriage could inherit the primary real estate portfolio.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Eleanor announced smoothly, her voice laced with patronizing warmth as she tapped her silver spoon against her cup. "As you know, my stepdaughter Sabrina has been struggling with severe cognitive burnout over the last year. Today’s emergency shareholder meeting was called to formally vote on transferring her voting proxies to my executive committee."
The shareholders murmured quietly, preparing their digital voting tablets.
BOOM!
The double glass doors of the boardroom were thrown open.
I walked down the center aisle, wearing my black suit, my dark hair pulled back into a sleek, commanding ponytail, my eyes burning with an unshakeable, sovereign authority.
Walking beside me was Justin, flanked by two uniformed officers from the NYPD Financial Crimes Division and Senior Special Agent Marcus Vance of the FBI.
Eleanor set her porcelain cup down with a sharp CLACK, her eyes narrowing into cold, venomous slits.
"Sabrina!" Eleanor snapped, standing up from her seat. "What is the meaning of this dramatic intrusion?! You are not scheduled to address the board today!"
"I am not here to address the board, Eleanor," I spoke, my voice booming through the high-ceilinged room with thunderous clarity. "I am here to execute an arrest warrant."
Eleanor let out a dry, condescending laugh. "An arrest warrant? On what grounds, you hysterical girl?"
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I pulled the medical toxicology file and Kenneth’s signed confession from my briefcase, sliding them flat across the long mahogany table directly toward the primary shareholder, Lord Harrison.
"On the grounds of attempted premeditated murder by chemical poisoning, corporate fraud, and conspiracy," I revealed deadpan.
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