Chapter 5 - The Boardroom ExecutionThe trap was set forty-eight hours later at the Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago.
The occasion was the emergency Vance Global Executive Shareholders Summit—the exact venue where Marcus Vance intended to finalize the fraudulent corporate takeover of Roman's multi-billion-dollar maritime and real estate empire.
Sitting at the head of the long mahogany conference table, wearing an expensive dark tuxedo, was sixty-two-year-old Marcus Vance. Surrounding the perimeter of the room were twenty corporate directors, lawyers, and six armed security guards.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Marcus spoke smoothly, adjusting his gold cufflinks, his tone dripping with fake sorrow. "It is with a heavy heart that I announce my nephew, Roman Vance, has suffered a severe incapacitating incident. Under Article 12 of our corporate charter, I am stepping forward as the interim Chairman and Chief Executive Officer."
BOOM!
The massive mahogany double doors of the Grand Ballroom were thrown open with a sharp, heavy crash that echoed off the high gilded ceiling.
Walking down the central aisle, flanked by thirty broad-shouldered security operators in dark suits led by Victor, was Roman Vance.
He wore an immaculate, bespoke dark tuxedo. His posture was broad, tall, and sovereign, his winter-gray eyes holding a cold, lethal fire that dropped the room's temperature below zero.
And walking directly beside his right shoulder, wearing an exquisite, floor-length midnight-blue silk gown, her dark hair swept back in an elegant knot, her hazel eyes holding zero fear, was me.
I held Roman’s broad, calloused hand firmly in my palm, my posture royal, my spine straight as a queen reclaiming her heritage.
Marcus Vance dropped his fountain pen.
CLACK!
The heavy gold pen rolled across the mahogany wood, falling onto the carpeted floorboards.
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"Roman...?!" Marcus stammered, his face turning an ugly, paper-white shade of shock as he stumbled up from his chair. "You're... you're alive?!"
"Did you think a cheap blade in a filthy alley would end me, Marcus?" Roman’s thunderous baritone echoed through the silent room like a rolling wave of thunder.
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