Chapter 12 - A Late-Night Boardroom Ambush
At 7:00 a.m. the following morning, I walked into the headquarters of Vance Logistics in downtown Chicago.
I wore my sharpest charcoal suit, my expression unreadable as I walked past the nervous whispers of my office staff.
The news of the wedding disaster had flooded every financial news outlet, sending our corporate stock into a temporary tailspin.
I pushed open the frosted glass doors of the executive boardroom, where the eight members of my board were already seated.
At the head of the long conference table sat Arthur Miller, looking exceptionally calm and composed in his navy blazer.
“Thomas,” Arthur said, standing up with a look of practiced, sympathetic sorrow.
“We are all so sorry for the terrible ordeal you went through yesterday with that crazy woman.”
“We’ve called this emergency meeting to discuss stabilizing the company stock and temporarily shifting executive management.”
I walked to the head of the table, leaning my hands flat on the polished mahogany surface, staring directly into Arthur’s eyes.
“Shifting management to whom, Arthur?” I asked softly. “To you?”
Arthur adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, offering a smooth, professional smile to the other board members.
“Well, given the recent emotional strain and public scandal, it might be best if you took a leave of absence,” Arthur suggested smoothly.
“The board needs a steady hand right now to reassure our international investors.”
I chuckled quietly—a dry, terrifying sound that made every board member sit up straight in their chairs.
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“I agree, Arthur,” I said, pulling a stack of legal documents from my leather folder and tossing them onto the table.
“Which is why the FBI is waiting in the lobby to escort you out of my building.”
