Chapter 3 - THE WIFE WHO KNEW TOO MUCHBack at the VIP table, Dominic could no longer maintain his composure. He brushed past Vanessa—who was desperately trying to smile for a lingering videographer—and marched toward the exit, his cell phone already pressed to his ear.
"Get me Marcus in legal," Dominic barked at his head of security, who was hovering near the door. "Now."
"Mr. Vale," Marcus’s voice crackled through the speaker, sounding unusually strained. "We’ve got a problem. A major one."
"If this is about the stock dip, I don't care—"
"It’s not the stock, sir. It’s the foundational restructuring documents you signed during the merger in Delaware two years ago. The ones Mrs. Vale prepared."
Dominic stopped dead in the corridor outside the ballroom. The distant strains of the string quartet sounded mocking now. "What about them? They’re standard indemnity clauses."
"They aren't, sir," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "Under Section Twelve, Subsection B, any unilateral transfer of executive assets, or public installation of a non-board-approved partner into a corporate-funded residence, triggers an automatic receivership clause. Control reverts immediately to the primary operational creator."
Dominic’s breath caught in his throat. "Who is the primary operational creator?"
A pause stretched over the line, heavy and suffocating.
May you like
"Evelyn Hart Vale, sir. She locked us out of every primary account fifteen minutes ago. We can't even pay the catering staff for tonight."
Dominic stared at the polished brass door of the ballroom. Inside, five hundred of Chicago’s wealthiest elites were clinking glasses, celebrating a man who was already legally dead in the water, while his wife danced with the devil himself.
