Chapter 8 - The Hostile Takeover Meeting Crashed By A Ghost In A Wheelchair
At 7:55 AM, the executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor of the Sterling Tower on Park Avenue was packed with tension.
Six voting board members sat around the thirty-foot Brazilian rosewood conference table. At the head of the table sat an empty high-backed leather chair.
On the wall-mounted telepresence screen, a live video feed connected from the cabin of a Gulfstream G650 idling on the runway at Teterboro Airport.
Julian Sterling appeared on the screen, looking composed, wearing a navy tailored suit, with a glass of champagne in his hand.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Julian’s voice resonated through the boardroom speakers. "As you know, our family has suffered a profound, unspeakable tragedy with the passing of our chairman, Arthur Sterling. However, the markets wait for no man. Under the Durable Power of Attorney executed last week, I am exercising the chairman’s fifty-one percent voting block to approve Resolution 804: the emergency acquisition of Sterling Logistics by Vanguard Maritime."
The corporate secretary cleared his throat. "We will now record the voting roll. Director Henderson?"
"Aye," Henderson said, looking down at his desk.
"Director Chen?"
"Aye."
"Director Martinez?"
Before Martinez could speak, the heavy frosted-glass doors of the boardroom were blown open with a concussive bang.
Two armed New York State Police troopers stepped in, flanking Daniel Sterling. Behind them, pushed by Claire, was Arthur Sterling in his wheelchair.
The room erupted into absolute pandemonium.
Directors leaped to their feet, chairs scraping violently across the hardwood floor. Two members dropped their coffee cups, the porcelain shattering against the table.
"G-Good God..." Director Henderson stammered, his face turning paper-white. "Arthur?!"
On the video monitor, Julian’s champagne glass slipped from his fingers, spilling across his trousers. His eyes widened into saucers of pure, paralyzing terror.
"No..." Julian choked out, leaning into the camera. "That's impossible! He's dead!"
Arthur leaned forward in his wheelchair, resting his chin on his hands, his dark eyes burning through the camera lens directly into Julian’s soul.
May you like
"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Julian," Arthur said, his voice cold, steady, and terrifyingly clear.
"You look well for a man who spent the last three days inside a wall."
Related Stories
