Chapter 4 - The Boardroom AmbushAt 8:55 AM the next day, the executive boardroom of Whitmore Construction was packed.
Ethan sat at the head of the mahogany table, looking immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit. To his right sat his mother, Margaret, who had insisted on attending to witness the glorious fallout. To his left sat Vanessa, acting as his unofficial chief financial advisor.
“Any minute now,” Ethan said, refreshing his corporate inbox with a smug grin. “The DNA results will hit my screen. Positive for exclusion. And then, Daniel Bell—her fancy little lawyer—is going to be served with our divorce and asset freeze papers.”
The heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open.
Ethan didn’t look up immediately. “If that’s catering, put the coffee on the sideboard—we’re waiting for important legal documents.”
“It’s not catering, Mr. Whitmore,” a crisp, unfamiliar voice replied.
Ethan snapped his head up. Standing in the doorway was not a delivery boy, but Marcus Vance—the senior managing partner of Vance & Associates, the most feared corporate restructuring firm in the state of Georgia. Behind him walked Daniel Bell, carrying a thick leather binder. And behind Daniel walked Claire.
She wasn’t wearing thrift store clothes or looking apologetic. She wore a sharp, custom-tailored white pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back into a flawless chignon. She didn’t look at Ethan. She walked straight to the other end of the table, pulled out the absolute center seat—the chairman’s seat—and sat down.
Ethan stood up so fast his chair screeched against the hardwood floor.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Ethan shouted, his face flushing purple. “Security! Get these trespassers out of my building! Claire, have you lost your absolute mind? You have no right to be in this room!”
“Sit down, Ethan,” Claire said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room with absolute, terrifying authority.
“Are you insane?” Margaret shrieked, standing up to defend her son. “Guards! Throw this manipulative little tramp out into the street!”
“Nobody is touching her,” Marcus Vance said calmly, stepping forward and slamming a heavy stack of legal documents onto the mahogany table right in front of Ethan.
Ethan’s hands shook as he looked down at the top page.
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It wasn’t a DNA report.
It was a foreclosure and asset forfeiture notice.
