Chapter 4 - THE SHADOW BOARDAt 8:00 AM the next morning, the boardroom of Vance Industries in Manhattan was silent, save for the nervous tapping of expensive Italian leather shoes. The twelve members of the executive board sat around the polished mahogany table, sweating under their tailored suits.
They thought Julian Vance was dead. Marcus had assured them of it.
The heavy double doors swung open with a violent crash. Julian strode into the room, impeccably dressed, flanked by Maria—now out of her maid’s uniform and wearing a sleek, tactical black suit, an earpiece resting in her ear, her hand resting near the concealed holster at her hip.
A collective gasp swept through the room. Arthur Sterling, the aging Vice Chairman, dropped his solid gold pen. "Julian! My god... we heard there was an attack at the estate! We thought..."
"You thought Marcus succeeded," Julian finished, taking his seat at the head of the table. He didn't sit down; he leaned forward, planting his knuckles on the wood like a predator inspecting his prey.
"I don't know what you mean," Sterling stammered, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple.
Julian tossed the scorched hard drive onto the center of the table. It landed with a heavy, metallic thud.
"I decrypted Marcus’s files at 4:00 AM," Julian said, his voice a low, lethal hum. "I have the offshore routing numbers. I have the Cayman accounts. I have the recorded phone calls where exactly seven of you agreed to vote for a change in leadership once my son and I were tragically 'eliminated'."
The room erupted into panicked denials, chairs scraping backward as men worth billions suddenly realized they were penniless mice in a trap.
"Silence!" Julian roared. The room froze. "Those seven individuals have exactly ten seconds to sign over their entire portfolios to Vance Industries and walk out of this building, or Maria here will lock the doors, and I will show you what a hostile takeover truly looks like."
"You can't do this!" a board member shrieked. "It's illegal!"
Maria casually stepped to the doors, locking them with a heavy magnetic clack. She smiled coldly. "Time is ticking, gentlemen."
But as Sterling reached for the documents, his phone buzzed. He looked down, his eyes widening in pure terror. "Julian... it's not Marcus. We weren't working for Marcus!"
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Julian’s eyes narrowed. "Who sent that text, Arthur?"
Sterling looked up, trembling. "It’s... it's your brother. Alexander. He says hello."
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