Chapter 5 - An Ambush in the Boardroom
The crack of my fist connecting with Julian’s jaw echoed off the boardroom glass like a gunshot.
Julian staggered backward, colliding violently with a row of leather chairs before crashing onto the carpeted floor, clutching his bleeding mouth in stunned disbelief.
“Get up,” I commanded, my voice devoid of all warmth.
Julian looked up at me from the floor, spitting blood onto the cream carpet, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and unbridled hatred. “You’re insane! You just assaulted a senior executive and board member!”
“Marco,” I said calmly, straightening the cuffs of my tailored suit jacket. “Did you see an assault?”
Marco looked up from his leather notepad with an entirely straight face. “I saw Mr. Vance lose his footing on the polished transition strip and suffer an unfortunate accidental fall. I will make a formal note of the facility hazard in the corporate risk assessment log.”
Julian scrambled to his feet, wiping his bloody chin with the sleeve of his expensive suit. “You think you're untouchable, Dominic? You have no idea what my mother has in place. The St. Jude shares aren't in this building. The original charter documents disappeared with Clara Carter seventeen years ago! You have no legal standing to block our takeover at Friday’s shareholder summit!”
“Get out of my sight, Julian,” I said, turning my back on him and looking out over the panoramic view of the park. “Clear your personal belongings from your office by noon. Security will escort you to the curb. If you attempt to access the corporate network, you will be arrested on the spot.”
Julian glared at me with pure poison in his eyes. “This isn't over. My mother will see you stripped of your title before the week ends.”
He turned and stormed out of the boardroom, slamming the heavy glass doors behind him.
Marco let out a slow, measured breath, closing his file folder. “Dominic, as satisfying as that was, he wasn't entirely bluffing about the board dynamics. Evelyn Vance has spent the last five years quietly courting our secondary institutional investors. If we walk into Friday’s shareholder meeting without the authenticated, original St. Jude trust charter signed by your father and Clara Carter, Evelyn has enough proxy votes to force a restructuring and strip you of executive veto power.”
“Where is the Bank of Zurich safe deposit box my father mentioned in the letter?” I asked.
“The physical branch on Fifth Avenue was acquired by a Swiss private banking conglomerate ten years ago,” Marco explained. “The underground vault is still fully operational, but it operates under strict Swiss secrecy protocols. You can't open that box with a court order or an executive subpoena, Dominic. The vault mechanism is a dual-biometric analog lock. It requires the physical presence of Clara Carter or her direct, verified descendant.”
“Emily,” I said.
“Yes,” Marco agreed. “Emily is the only person on earth who can turn that key. But the moment we take her to that bank, Evelyn’s private surveillance will know. They’ve had Emily monitored for years to ensure she never attempted to claim her rights.”
“Then we don't take her to the bank in secret,” I said, turning back toward Marco with a cold, strategic grin. “We draw Evelyn’s security out into the open. We set a perimeter so tight that the moment they make a move against Emily, they walk straight into a federal sting.”
“And what about the child?” Marco asked. “Lily is the leverage they will try to use if they feel the noose tightening.”
My expression hardened into pure iron. “Lily stays at the penthouse under twenty-four-hour armed guard with Marcus and his elite tactical team. Nothing touches that little girl. Nothing.”
I pulled my smartphone from my pocket and dialed the private security desk at my residential penthouse.
“Emily?” I said when the line connected.
May you like
“Dominic?” Her voice sounded anxious, but stable. “Lily is eating breakfast with the private chef you sent. She thinks this is a five-star hotel. She asked me if we're allowed to touch the towels.”
A rare, genuine smile touched my lips for a fleeting second. “Tell her she can keep the towels. Emily, get dressed in something formal. Marco and I are coming to pick you up in thirty minutes. It’s time we pay a visit to the Bank of Zurich.”
