Chapter 7 - The Tables TurnThe oak doors of the executive suite flew open with a loud bang.
Arthur Vance strode out, flanked by two corporate lawyers, wearing a triumphant, razor-thin smile. He held the signed petition high in the air like a conqueror waving a flag of victory.
“Well, Jack,” Arthur announced loudly, drawing the attention of every employee on the forty-second floor. “It’s over. The board has voted unanimously. Effective immediately, your executive authority is suspended, and I am assuming control as CEO of Turner Markets.”
Jack stepped out of his office holding his leather briefcase in one hand and the manila envelope in the other. He didn't look defeated. In fact, he looked remarkably relaxed.
“Congratulations, Arthur,” Jack said calmly, walking toward him. “You finally got the corner office. Too bad you won’t be enjoying it for very long.”
Arthur sneered. “Save the dramatics, Jack. Security is waiting downstairs to escort you out.”
“Security won't be necessary,” Jack replied. He stopped two feet away from Arthur and slid the manila envelope out of his briefcase, dropping it onto the edge of the mahogany conference table. “Because federal marshals are currently walking through the lobby to serve you with an indictment for corporate embezzlement, tax evasion, and insider trading.”
The color instantly drained from Arthur’s face. His triumphant smile shattered into pieces.
“What... what is this?” Arthur stammered, his hands shaking as he tore open the envelope.
“While you were busy tracking my personal decisions, my forensic accountants were auditing your private real-estate portfolio,” Jack said, his voice ringing crisp and clear across the silent floor. “You’ve been systematically siphoning funds from our store closure liquidations into offshore shell companies for the last three years. Every single transaction is documented right there.”
Arthur’s knees buckled slightly. He gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling. “You—you fabricated this! It’s a lie!”
“Tell that to the federal prosecutors,” Jack said smoothly.
Just then, the private elevator doors chimed. Two federal agents in dark suits stepped out into the forty-second-floor hallway, walking with calm, purposeful strides directly toward Arthur Vance.
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“Arthur Vance?” the lead agent asked, flashing a silver badge.
Arthur stared in horror as the agent stepped forward and placed cold steel handcuffs around his wrists. Without a single word of protest, the disgraced executive was led away in disgrace, his corporate empire crumbling around him in real time.
