Chapter 10 - The Empire’s True Heir
The morning after I carried Lily out of that house, the Denver sky was a bruised, heavy gray. I had spent the night sitting awake in a sterile hospital room while pediatric specialists documented every horrific mark on my five-year-old daughter’s body. When dawn broke, Lily was finally asleep, safely guarded by two off-duty federal marshals I trusted with my life.
It was time to go to work. Not my federal job. My other job.
Grant had always loved playing the role of the self-made billionaire. He wore the bespoke suits, gave the interviews to financial magazines, and shook hands at charity galas. Over the past five years, he had convinced himself—and high society—that Frost-Carlisle Holdings was his empire. He had entirely forgotten that the "Frost" came first for a reason. My father built the company. I inherited it. Grant was merely the CEO I had appointed because I preferred the shadows of federal fieldwork to the glaring lights of a boardroom.
I arrived at the downtown skyscraper at exactly nine in the morning. I wasn't wearing my tactical gear today. I wore a tailored, charcoal gray Tom Ford suit, a silk blouse, and the sharpest stilettos I owned.
When I stepped into the expansive glass-walled lobby, the head of security, a man named Henderson whom Grant had recently hired, stepped into my path. He held up a thick hand.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Henderson said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Mr. Carlisle left strict orders. Evelyn Frost is not permitted on the premises. I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police."
I didn’t stop walking. I simply pulled a sleek black folder from my leather tote bag and slapped it hard against his chest. He caught it on reflex.
"That is a certified copy of the corporate operating agreement, Henderson," I said, my voice carrying across the quiet lobby. "Turn to page four. You will see that I hold eighty-two percent of the voting shares. Grant holds zero. He is an at-will employee. If you do not step aside immediately, you will join him in the unemployment line before lunch."
Henderson blinked, his face draining of color as he opened the folder. The embossed seal of the state of Colorado gleamed back at him.
May you like
"I... I apologize, Ms. Frost," he stammered, stepping aside so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots.
"Follow me," I commanded without looking back. "We have a termination to execute."
