Chapter 8 - The Boardroom Ambush
At 9:45 AM, the glass elevator of Mercer Tower shot upward fifty stories above the heart of Manhattan. When the doors slid open, Julian and I stepped out onto the marble floor of the executive suite.
I was no longer wearing the oversized sweater or worn jeans from Thanksgiving night. Julian had arranged for a private stylist to deliver an impeccably tailored navy-blue pantsuit, paired with classic Christian Louboutin heels and subtle diamond studs. My hair was styled in sleek, polished waves, and my head was held high.
The receptionist immediately stood up with deep respect. "Mr. Mercer. Miss Bennett. Mr. Thomas Bennett and his son Ryan have been waiting in Boardroom A for twenty minutes."
"Thank you, Sarah," Julian nodded calmly. "Bring in the legal team and our forensic accounting director in five minutes."
Julian took my hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, and pushed open the heavy frosted glass doors of Boardroom A.
Inside, Thomas Bennett was pacing frantically along the panoramic window, his tie loosened and dark circles under his eyes. Ryan was sitting at the conference table, nervously biting his fingernails.
When the door opened, both men snapped their attention toward us.
"Mr. Mercer!" Thomas exclaimed, rushing forward with an outstretched hand. "Thank you for seeing us! Thank you for—"
Thomas froze mid-stride. His eyes traveled from Julian to me.
He stared at my designer suit, my composed posture, and the undeniable aura of confidence radiating from me. For a moment, he couldn't reconcile the poised, stunning woman standing before him with the daughter he had ordered to scrub grease off his roasting pans less than twenty-four hours ago.
"C-Claire?" Thomas stammered.
"Good morning, Father," I said smoothly, walking past him and taking a seat at the head of the conference table, directly beside the CEO's chair.
Ryan glared at me from across the table, his arrogance returning in the absence of our mother. "What is she doing here, Julian? This is a private corporate negotiation between men. Family drama doesn't belong in a corporate acquisition."
Julian didn't take his seat immediately. Instead, he walked slowly around the table until he stood directly behind Ryan’s chair, leaning down until his voice was a low, lethal whisper.
"Let me make one thing crystal clear, Ryan," Julian murmured. "Claire owns fifty percent of the voting proxy for Mercer Holdings' acquisition branch as of eight o'clock this morning. In this room, she is not your sister. She is your potential buyer. Speak to her with disrespect again, and security will throw you out the fifty-story window."
Ryan swallowed hard, his face turning an embarrassing shade of purple.
Thomas quickly pulled out a chair and sat down, his hands trembling on the polished mahogany surface. "Mr. Mercer... Claire... we are here to plead for the survival of Bennett Logistics. We are willing to accept a lower valuation. We will grant Mercer Holdings a sixty percent controlling stake. Just release the twenty-million-dollar initial liquidity tranche so we can settle our supplier debts by Monday!"
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I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and lacing my fingers together.
"Before we discuss a single dollar of Mercer capital, Father," I said, my voice steady and cold, "we have some unfinished business from seven years ago."
