Chapter 4 - The Boardroom AmbushThe glass-and-steel skyscraper of Sterling-Vance Shipping loomed over downtown Savannah Creek like a monument to corporate greed.
At exactly 11:00 AM, the double doors of the top-floor executive boardroom swung open.
Inside, the mahogany table was surrounded by the senior board members—elderly men and women who had watched me grow up, most of them looking grim and uncomfortable. At the head of the table sat Garrett.
He wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit, a black silk tie signifying appropriate mourning, and an expression of profound, theatrical grief. Beside him sat Penelope, rubbing her slightly protruding stomach with a delicate hand, wearing an ivory designer dress that looked sickeningly bridal.
“Before we vote on the emergency asset transfer,” Garrett was saying, his voice dripping with smooth, manufactured sorrow, “I want to thank the board for your support during this unimaginable tragedy. Losing my beloved wife Rosalind and her brother Tobias in that horrific creek accident has broken my heart. But we must keep the company moving forward—”
“I’m touched, Garrett,” a clear, ringing voice cut through the silence of the boardroom. “Especially since you didn't even wait for my body to bloat before scheduling the probate vote.”
Every head in the room snapped toward the double doors.
I walked into the boardroom with my head held high, wearing Marcus’s spare wool coat, my hair neatly pinned back, my eyes fixed entirely on my husband. Behind me strode Tobias, walking with a measured, heavy cadence that echoed like thunder against the polished marble floor.
Garrett’s face drained of color so fast it looked as though all the blood had been violently sucked from his body. His pen slipped from his fingers, clattering against the glass table.
Penelope shrieked, dropping her teacup, the porcelain shattering into a hundred pieces across the floor.
“Rosalind…?” Garrett whispered, his voice cracking, his eyes bulging as if he were staring face-to-face with a phantom from the grave. “No… that’s impossible. We saw the car go down. We watched it sink.”
“I know you did, Garrett,” I said, stopping at the foot of the table and placing my palms flat against the mahogany surface. “You and Penelope had front-row seats. It must have been so disappointing for you when the closing credits didn't roll the way you planned.”
Garrett scrambled backward in his executive chair, panic flashing in his eyes before he desperately tried to mask it with corporate authority.
“Security!” Garrett roared, leaping to his feet. “Imposters! Some sick grifters are trying to hijack the corporate succession vote! Get them out of here!”
Not a single security guard moved.
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Instead, the side door of the boardroom opened, and Marcus Vance stepped inside, followed by two federal agents in dark suits holding thick manila folders and federal arrest warrants.
“Sit down, Garrett,” Marcus said coldly. “The only one leaving this room in handcuffs is you.”
