Chapter 9 - The Summoning of the Board
The private dining room at the prestigious Manhattan Club was paneled in century-old mahogany and smelled of aged tobacco and expensive steak.
Arthur Remington sat at the head of the long oval table, looking frail beneath his impeccably tailored three-piece pinstripe suit.
His hands possessed a slight tremor that he tried to conceal by keeping them resting on the pristine white linen cloth.
Alden sat to his father’s right, radiating nervous energy while constantly checking the screen of his gold-plated phone.
Around the table sat four senior board members, men in their sixties and seventies who had grown wealthy on Arthur's past triumphs.
"Alden," Arthur spoke, his voice carrying the raspy fatigue of a man whose body was winding down.
"Where is Harper?"
"She was supposed to present the third-quarter liquidity breakdown before we discussed the capital allocation."
Alden took a quick gulp of his cabernet before leaning toward his father with an expression of practiced sympathy.
"Dad, I didn't want to upset you before dinner, but we had an unfortunate incident this morning," Alden said, keeping his voice subdued.
"Harper exhibited erratic behavior in the corridor, became verbally abusive toward junior staff, and intentionally destroyed company property."
Arthur frowned, his cloudy gray eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"Harper Lively?" Arthur asked, shaking his head slowly.
"She has been with us for fifteen years, Alden."
"She has never raised her voice to a soul in that building."
"People change under pressure, Dad," Alden insisted, nudging a leather-bound folder across the table toward his father.
"She was overwhelmed by the market corrections."
"I had to terminate her immediately to protect the firm's reputation and security."
"Who is managing the Caldwell Sovereign account in her absence?" one of the board members, an elderly banker named Sterling, asked sharply.
"I have assumed direct personal oversight of all Caldwell assets," Alden announced with unearned swagger, puffing out his chest.
"In fact, I have already restructured the sovereign portfolio to capture significant upside in European yield markets."
"We merely need Dad’s authorization to release the collateral funds for the restructuring."
Alden opened the leather portfolio, placing a gold fountain pen directly into his father's trembling right hand.
"Just sign the authorization on page fourteen, Dad," Alden urged softly, his eyes darting toward the mahogany doors.
"It will streamline our reporting before the SEC auditors arrive on Monday."
Arthur stared down at the dense legal text, his failing vision struggling to parse the tiny numbers printed across the columns.
"I don't understand these Cayman transfer clauses, Alden," Arthur murmured, his brow furrowing with deep unease.
"Where is the risk mitigation rider that Harper always attaches to debt instruments?"
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"Harper is gone, Dad," Alden snapped, a flash of irritation slipping through his carefully maintained mask.
"Just sign the document so we can eat dinner."
