Chapter 6 - Cleansing the HouseThe mahogany conference table in the main boardroom felt colder than usual.
Outside, the Chicago wind howled against the bulletproof glass, whipping sleet across the manicured lawns where Vane’s mercenaries had tried to storm my gates only hours earlier. Inside, the air was suffocatingly still.
Richard sat at the far end of the long table, his face ashen, his hands trembling violently as he tried to loosen his silk tie. Flanking him were three senior board members who had spent years nodding politely at my instructions while quietly voting to bleed my assets dry behind my back.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
I didn't walk in first.
Elena entered, wearing a sharp, tailored black trench coat, her amber eyes scanning the boardroom like a wolf assessing a pen of sheep. Behind her, Prescott shoved Richard’s primary co-conspirator, CFO Arthur Pendelton, into an empty leather chair.
I walked in last, my hands resting casually in my pockets, though the weight of my firearm beneath my jacket was a comforting reminder of reality.
"Lawson," Richard stammered, forcing a sickly, nervous smile to his lips. "Thank God. We heard about the breach—Vane’s men attacked the estate? Are the children—"
I pulled out the chair at the head of the table, sat down slowly, and placed a thick manila folder directly in front of him.
"Open it, Richard," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it commanded the entire room with terrifying gravity.
Richard’s hands shook so badly he could barely lift the cardboard tab. He flipped open the cover. Inside were bank statements, encrypted email transcripts, and chemical lab reports detailing the heavy metal poisoning administered to my twins—all signed off with his digital authorization key.
The color drained entirely from Richard’s face until he looked like a corpse.
"This... this is fabricated," Richard whispered, his voice cracking. "Vane—Vane must have hacked my terminal—"
"Vane is currently regaining consciousness in a concrete cell three stories beneath this floor," I interrupted smoothly. "And he is singing a very detailed song about how you promised him a fifty percent stake in Mercer Industries once my bloodline was extinguished."
The board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, staring down at their polished mahogany blotters, desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow them.
"Lawson, please," Richard choked out, sliding out of his chair and dropping heavily to his knees on the carpet. He reached out, grabbing the hem of my trousers. "We're family! We're—"
"Family," I repeated, the word tasting like poison. "You tried to murder my six-year-old children. You helped my father orchestrate the destruction of the Sterling family. And you thought you could sit at my table and inherit my empire."
I signaled to Prescott with a flick of my wrist.
Two armed guards stepped forward, hauling Richard to his feet as he began to sob hysterically, dragging him toward the heavy double doors.
"Pendelton," I said, turning my gaze to the trembling CFO. "Clean out your desk. Surrender your shares by midnight, or you'll be sharing a cell with Richard."
Pendelton didn't argue. He stood up silently, grabbed his leather briefcase, and bolted from the room without looking back.
May you like
When the doors clicked shut, silence settled over the boardroom once again. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, staring at the remaining board members who looked like men waiting for their executioner.
"The meeting is adjourned," I said softly. "And if any of you ever decide to test my patience again, don't bother sending an assassin. Come to my office. I'll save you the trip."
