Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Coup"She rejected you?" Frankie asked, disbelief dripping from every syllable as we rode the private elevator back up to the penthouse.
"She didn't just reject me," I muttered, staring at my reflection in the dark glass of the elevator wall. "She put me in my place."
"Well, welcome to the real world, Julian. Not everyone worships the ground you walk on just because your net worth has nine figures." Frankie rubbed the back of his neck, his expression darkening. "Speaking of the real world... we have a bigger problem. Vance Global."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket. I pulled it out. Three missed calls from Charles Vance, my uncle and the executive chairman of the board, followed by an urgent email with the subject line: Emergency Executive Session - 10:00 AM.
"They're moving early," I said, the cold reality of corporate warfare snapping me back into focus.
"They know Leo's condition has kept you out of the New York office for the last three weeks," Frankie said grimly. "Charles has been whispering to the institutional investors that your personal life is compromising corporate stability. If you walk into that boardroom looking distracted, they’re going to invoke Clause 9 of the shareholder agreement—temporary suspension of the CEO due to incapacitating personal duress."
I clenched my fist. For two years, I had tried to balance being a ruthless corporate titan with being a ghost of a father. I had poured my soul into the company because building wealth felt like the only way to protect my family, only to realize that while I was busy securing the empire, I was losing the only kingdom that actually mattered.
"Let them try," I said coldly, stepping out of the elevator. "Call our legal team. Pull up every single financial disclosure on Charles Vance over the last five years. If he wants a war, I'll give him a bloodbath."
I walked into the massive living room, expecting to find Leo still curled in his corner.
Instead, the room was empty.
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Leo?" I shouted, panic surging through my veins. "Leo!"
I bolted down the hallway, bursting into his bedroom. The bed was untouched. The sensory toys were scattered. And sitting right in the middle of the plush white carpet, completely silent, was a small, crudely folded hotel towel shaped like a swan.
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And tucked under its wing was a handwritten note on hotel stationery.
He followed me down again. He’s safe in the staff breakroom on the 12th floor. Come get him yourself, Mr. Vance. No security. Just you.
