Chapter 7 - The Hostile Takeover"Well spoken, Emily," a deep, booming voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
Everyone turned. Standing on the landing was Arthur Vance—Alexander’s aging grandfather and the patriarch of Vance Global, who had supposedly retired from public life five years ago. Supported by a polished silver cane, the old man descended the steps with surprising agility, his sharp eyes fixed entirely on me.
Beatrice’s face turned the color of ash. "Father! You said you weren't well enough to attend—"
"I said I didn't want to listen to your boring speeches, Beatrice," Arthur interrupted gruffly, stepping onto the ballroom floor. He stopped right in front of us, peering closely at Sofi, who stirred softly in my arms, and then up at Alexander and me.
Arthur’s stern face broke into a wide, toothy grin.
"Finally!" the old man barked, slamming his cane against the marble floor with a satisfying clack. "For ten years, Alexander, you've been working yourself into an early grave, surrounded by sycophants and gold-diggers arranged by my ambitious daughter-in-law here. And now, you finally bring home a woman with actual spine and character!"
Julian stepped forward, panic leaking into his voice. "Grandfather, you can't be serious! She's a nobody! She has no pedigree, no business background—"
"Pedigree?" Arthur snorted dismissively. "Your father married into money, Julian, and you've spent your entire life proving you can lose it faster than we can make it. Strength, grit, and loyalty—that's what built Vance Global. And if Miss Carter here can survive a thirty-six-hour shift and a colicky baby on an airplane, she has more business acumen than you've shown in a decade."
Alexander’s hand tightened warmly around my waist. "Grandfather is right. And effective tonight, I am exercising my controlling voting shares to restructure the executive board."
Julian’s eyes widened in horror. "You can't do that without a formal vote!"
"I just did," Alexander said smoothly as two corporate security guards stepped out from the shadows near the ballroom doors, holding pristine manila folders. "Julian, your embezzlement of the European subsidiary's accounts has been fully audited. Effective immediately, you are stripped of your title and your company shares."
Chaos erupted.
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Beatrice shrieked, rushing forward, but security quietly intercepted her. Photographers—secretly tipped off by someone, or perhaps by Alexander himself—flashed cameras from the edges of the ballroom, capturing every single second of the public downfall.
I stood frozen in the eye of the storm, holding Sofi, realizing I was standing at the epicenter of a multi-billion-dollar corporate earthquake.
