Chapter 4 - The House of Cards Collapses
Friday morning arrived in Boston with a bitter, biting chill that heralded the coming winter. The slate-gray skies matched the heavy mood inside the executive boardroom on the top floor of the Hollis Heritage Tower.
The room was packed. All twelve members of the board of directors sat around the massive custom-built walnut conference table, their expressions a mix of sheer terror and utter disbelief.
At the head of the table sat Richard Hollis. His tailored navy suit looked slightly rumpled, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands gripped the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles were stark white. Beside him sat Constance, her face rigid, maintaining a mask of icy composure, though her fingers trembled against the gold handle of her cane.
And near the floor-to-ceiling windows stood Brianna Cole, nervously stroking her stomach—though anyone looking closely could see the subtle, unnatural shift of the silicone padding beneath her oversized cashmere sweater.
"This is an outrage!" Richard shouted, slamming his palm onto the table. "A hostile procedural error! My attorneys are filing an immediate restraining order against this illegal shareholder coup!"
"Your attorneys are currently in federal holding being questioned about wire fraud and corporate embezzlement, Richard," a calm, crystal-clear voice echoed from the doorway.
The heavy mahogany doors swung open.
Silence descended upon the room instantly, heavier and colder than before.
I walked into the boardroom.
I wore an impeccably tailored cream-colored wool coat over a charcoal sheath dress, my hair pulled back into a sleek, flawless chignon. I didn't look like the discarded, broken housewife who had walked out of the Beacon Hill townhouse four days ago. I walked with the absolute, unshakeable poise of a queen returning to reclaim her throne.
Behind me walked David Sterling carrying a heavy metal briefcase, followed by two federal agents in dark suits and a local Boston detective.
Richard stood up so fast his chair crashed backward onto the floor. "Julia! What the hell is the meaning of this? Security! Throw her out of this building immediately!"
"Sit down, Richard," I said, my voice dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees.
I walked directly to the head of the table—the seat traditionally reserved for the CEO and founder—and stood right in front of it.
"There is no security coming to save you," I continued, unbuttoning my coat and laying it neatly over the back of the chair. "In fact, the only people leaving this room in handcuffs today are the ones who thought they could loot my company and insult my intelligence."
Constance slammed her cane against the floor, her eyes flashing with venom. "You ungrateful, vindictive little bitch! You took our fifty million dollars! You signed the papers! You have no claim here!"
I turned my gaze slowly toward Constance, a calm, chilling smile touching my lips.
"I signed a divorce settlement, Constance. I never signed away my majority voting shares in the corporate parent trust. And as for the fifty million..." I reached into my handbag, pulled out a certified cashier's check, and dropped it casually onto the center of the walnut table. "...consider that a down payment on the legal fees your son is about to incur."
Richard’s face drained of all remaining color. He stared at the check, then looked up at me with sheer horror. "You... you didn't cash it."
"I don't touch dirty money, Richard," I replied softly.
I turned to the federal agents behind me. "Officers, if you please."
The federal agent stepped forward, pulling a warrant from his jacket. "Richard Hollis, Brianna Cole, you are hereby placed under arrest for federal wire fraud, securities manipulation, and corporate embezzlement."
Brianna let out a shrill scream, clutching her fake belly as panic overtook her. "No! This is a mistake! I'm pregnant! I'm carrying his children—"
May you like
"Save the theater for the federal judge, Brianna," I interrupted, walking over to her and looking down with a gaze so sharp it made her shrink back. "Or should I call you Chloe Miller's roommate? We have the receipts from the theatrical supply store in New York where you bought the silicone bump, and we have Chloe’s sworn testimony admitting you paid her ten thousand dollars to text me that warning."
Brianna froze, all color draining from her face. The game was entirely, irrevocably over.
