Chapter 8 - Boardroom Bloodbath: Gideon Pulls the Plug on Rowan’s Biggest Client
On Wednesday morning at 10:00 a.m., the emergency boardroom on the sixty-fifth floor of the Sterling Global Tower was completely packed.
Sitting around the forty-foot solid mahogany conference table were the executive managing directors, general counsels, and audit committee chairs of seven multi-billion-dollar conglomerates. At the head of the table sat Gideon Sterling, looking immaculately tailored in a charcoal three-piece suit, exuding an aura of absolute, terrifying power.
Sitting directly to his right, wearing a sharp cream designer blazer and holding a digital presentation tablet, was me.
The heavy glass doors opened, and two security guards escorted in Bradley Thorne—the Senior Vice President of Sterling Crest Hospitality who had originally signed and approved Rowan’s vendor contracts three years ago.
Thorne was trembling, his forehead drenched in sweat as he looked at the gathered titans of industry. He had been Gideon’s trusted operations director for nearly eight years.
"M-Mr. Sterling... Phoebe..." Thorne stammered, pulling out a chair at the far end of the table and sitting down gingerly. "I... I came as soon as I received the emergency summons. I understand there’s an issue regarding the media marketing retainer for Apex Media?"
"An issue, Bradley?" Dad asked, his voice smooth, low, and terrifyingly calm. "No, there is no issue. An issue implies a minor operational friction. What we have here is a catastrophic breach of fiduciary duty, corporate embezzlement, and internal kickback conspiracy."
Dad gestured toward me. "Phoebe, walk Mr. Thorne through the numbers."
I tapped my tablet, projecting our forensic findings onto the massive four-hundred-inch high-definition display on the boardroom wall.
"Over the last twenty-four months, Bradley, you approved nineteen separate supplemental invoices submitted by Rowan Vance for 'targeted digital influencer campaigns' and 'exclusive luxury demographic placements,'" I stated, my voice echoing clearly across the dead-silent room. "Every single invoice was billed at precisely forty-eight thousand dollars—just two thousand dollars below the fifty-thousand-dollar threshold that requires dual-signoff from the executive audit committee."
Thorne swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically across the screen. "Phoebe... Rowan presented comprehensive analytics reports! The engagement metrics were extraordinary—"
"The engagement metrics were fabricated by a click-farm server located in Eastern Europe," I said, pulling up the technical server logs. "And do you know where forty percent of that money went, Bradley?"
I clicked to the next slide. A massive bank routing map appeared on the screen, showing the exact movement of funds.
"Forty percent went into Blue Harbor Media—an LLC controlled by Selina Vance," I continued. "And ten percent of every single approved invoice—exactly four thousand, eight hundred dollars a month—was wired directly into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands registered under the name 'B. Thorne Consulting.'"
The entire boardroom gasped. Two executive board members leaned back in their chairs, shaking their heads in disgust.
Thorne collapsed back against his leather chair, the color completely draining from his face. "Mr. Sterling... please... Rowan approached me! He told me it was a standard industry consulting fee! He said the parent company would never notice—"
"You stole from my company, Bradley," Gideon said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and fixing Thorne with a gaze that felt like a death sentence. "You conspired with a bottom-feeding parasite to siphon nearly eight hundred thousand dollars from the corporate empire I spent forty years building to secure my daughter and grandson's future."
"I'll pay it back!" Thorne cried out, clutching the edge of the mahogany table. "Every single dime! I have equity in my home, I have a stock portfolio—"
"You will pay it back," Eleanor Vance-Vanderbilt said from the side of the table, sliding a certified legal document toward Thorne. "Along with treble damages and statutory interest. But you won't be doing it from the comfort of your home. You will be doing it from federal custody."
At that exact moment, the boardroom doors swung open again. Two federal agents from the Securities and Exchange Commission, accompanied by two New York State Police investigators, stepped into the room with handcuffs gleaming at their belts.
"Bradley Thorne?" the lead agent announced. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, commercial bribery, and conspiracy to commit grand larceny."
As the agents hauled the weeping executive out of the boardroom in front of his former peers, Dad turned to the rest of the board members.
"Apex Media is dead," Dad commanded. "Issue immediate termination notices to every vendor associated with Rowan Vance. Freeze every credit line, cancel every collaborative sponsorship, and blacklist his name from every financial institution on the continent."
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Dad looked at me, a proud, tender smile touching his eyes. "And effective immediately, I am appointing Phoebe Sterling as the Executive Vice President of Corporate Oversight and Forensic Audit for Sterling Global Holdings."
The entire boardroom erupted into a standing ovation.
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