Chapter 12 - The Sound of Steel
The moment the ink dried on the final signature, a heavy silence fell across the private dining room.
Alden looked up from the floor, his face twisted into an ugly mask of disbelief and rage.
"This is a joke," Alden sneered, struggling against the marshal's hold.
"She's an employee, you can't just hand her the keys to my kingdom!"
Victoria Vance pulled a pair of dark blue folders from her leather briefcase and handed one to each marshal.
"Alden Remington, by order of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York, you are being taken into custody," Victoria stated with clinical precision.
"You are charged with wire fraud, securities manipulation, making false statements to federal auditors, and grand larceny."
Alden’s smug defiance evaporated into pure, paralyzing horror.
"Wait, what? Dad, stop them! They can't arrest me in the Manhattan Club!"
The lead marshal produced a pair of stainless steel handcuffs, the metallic clicks echoing like gunshots against the mahogany walls.
"Turn around and place your hands behind your back, sir," the marshal commanded.
Alden tried to pull away, knocking a silver ice bucket off a service cart and sending ice cubes skittering across the polished floor.
"I am an executive! My family built this city! You can't put handcuffs on me!"
The two marshals subdued him effortlessly, twisting his arms behind his back and snapping the steel cuffs shut around his wrists.
Alden let out a high, humiliated sob as the cold metal bit into his skin.
The four board members stared into their laps, utterly unable to meet the young man's frantic gaze.
Sterling wiped a film of cold sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed napkin, terrified of what the auditors would find in his own files.
"Mr. Caldwell, please," Sterling stammered, his voice pathetic and hollow.
"We were unaware of the offshore accounts, we were misled by Alden's quarterly summaries!"
"You were willfully blind because your dividend checks kept clearing, Sterling," Mason answered, his voice dripping with disgust.
"Harper warned you three years ago about Florida, and she warned you six months ago about the risk models."
"Every one of you voted to push her into a copy room so you wouldn't have to hear the truth."
Mason leaned over the table, placing both palms flat on the wood.
"You will convene an emergency board session via telephone at seven tomorrow morning."
"You will unanimously ratify Harper Lively's appointment as CEO, and you will tender your resignations from the audit committee before noon."
"If a single board member hesitates, Victoria will unseal the subpoenas for your personal trading accounts before the markets open."
Sterling nodded frantically, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his glasses onto the table.
"We will cooperate fully, Mason, anything you need," another board member rushed to add.
The marshals lifted Alden to his feet, holding him firmly by the elbows as he hung his head, crying openly now.
His designer suit was wrinkled, his silk tie crooked, and the arrogant sneer that had terrorized the office for years was completely destroyed.
As they dragged him toward the exit, Alden raised his tear-streaked face to look at me.
"Harper, please," he whimpered, having lost every shred of the bluster he displayed twelve hours earlier.
"Tell them it was an accounting mistake, tell them we can resolve this internally."
I looked down at the man who had fired me over a thirty-cent stain on his three-hundred-dollar shirt.
I remembered the fear in my mother’s eyes when I came home early, wondering if we would lose our home.
I remembered my daughter performing alone on a stage four years ago while I covered up this man's incompetence.
"You told me I was incompetent, Alden," I said softly, my voice completely steady.
"You told me I was disposable."
"Now you are going to learn what an actual investment professional does when the market calls your bluff."
The marshals hauled him through the heavy double doors, his muffled protests fading down the carpeted hallway of the club.
Arthur buried his face in his hands, his frail shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Mason stepped behind the old man, placing a steadying hand on his back.
May you like
"Go home, Arthur," Mason said gently.
"Let Harper do what she should have been doing five years ago."
