Chapter 4 - The Boardroom ConfrontationTwo weeks later, the morning sun broke brightly over the towering glass skyscrapers of downtown Chicago.
Inside the top-floor executive boardroom of Vance Bio-Chemicals, the board of directors had convened an emergency meeting.
Tristan Vance, currently released on a high $1 million bail funded by his wealthy mother, sat at the mahogany table alongside his defense attorney. He wore a sharp suit, but his face was pale, sunken, and covered in dark stubble. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with the frantic, paranoid energy of a cornered animal.
"Members of the board," Tristan’s attorney spoke smoothly, "my client maintains his absolute innocence regarding the domestic allegations made by his estranged wife. We request that Mr. Vance remain in his executive role until the criminal trial concludes."
"He doesn't have an executive role anymore," a clear, ringing voice cut through the boardroom.
The heavy glass doors swung open.
I walked into the room, wearing a tailored navy suit, my dark hair styled in glossy waves, walking smoothly on my own two feet without a cane or a limp. Flanking me was Arthur Sterling and two forensic accountants from the State Financial Crimes Division.
Tristan stood up so fast his leather chair crashed backward against the window. His eyes widened into vast circles of pure, unadulterated shock as he stared at me.
"Reese...?!" Tristan stammered out, his voice cracking violently. "What... what are you doing here?! This is a private corporate board meeting!"
"I am here as the primary trustee of the Bennett Estate," I announced cleanly, stepping up to the head of the table. "Which holds a thirty-four percent equity share in Vance Bio-Chemicals."
Tristan’s jaw sagged open in total horror. He had spent four years believing my father’s estate was a small, negligible trust. He had never bothered to check the primary shareholder registries.
Arthur Sterling stepped forward, dropping a thick leather binder flat onto the center of the mahogany table with a deafening THUD.
"Gentlemen of the board," Arthur announced, his baritone echoing through the quiet room, "we present the complete forensic audit detailing Tristan Vance's embezzlement of $2.4 million in corporate funds, along with wiretap evidence proving he attempted to murder a primary shareholder to cover his crimes."
The board members gasped, pulling out their tablets, reviewing the mountains of certified bank records and chemical transaction logs.
The CEO of Vance Bio-Chemicals stood up, his face carved from cold stone as he glared at Tristan.
"Tristan Vance," the CEO declared, "you are terminated effective immediately. Security will escort you from the premises, and our legal team will assist the State's Attorney in your prosecution."
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Tristan collapsed back against the glass window, sweating profusely, tears of pure, pathetic terror spilling over his lashes as two security guards grabbed his arms, dragging his groveling frame out through the doors.
I looked at him calmly from the head of the table, feeling zero fear, zero regret, and zero pain.
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