Chapter 11 - The Boardroom Coup
The executive boardroom on the forty-fifth floor offered a panoramic view of the Rocky Mountains. As I approached the heavy oak doors, I could hear Grant’s voice echoing from within. He was in his element, giving a charismatic, booming presentation to the board of directors regarding an upcoming merger. He sounded confident. Untouchable.
I pushed the double doors open. They hit the wall stops with a thunderous crack that silenced the room instantly.
Twelve pairs of eyes snapped toward me. Grant was standing at the head of the massive mahogany table, holding a laser pointer. His confident smile completely evaporated, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated panic.
"Evelyn," Grant choked out, his eyes darting to the security guard standing nervously behind me. "What are you doing here? This is a closed executive session. Henderson, escort my wife out of the building immediately!"
Henderson stared at the floor, refusing to move.
I walked slowly down the length of the room, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished hardwood. "Your wife?" I asked, keeping my voice dangerously soft. "That’s a bold term for a man who moved his mistress into my home while I was on deployment. But we aren't here to discuss our dead marriage, Grant. We are here to discuss your employment."
"You can't do this!" Grant sputtered, his face turning a violent shade of red as the board members whispered furiously among themselves. "I built the recent quarter's profits! I am the face of this company!"
"You are a mascot," I corrected, reaching the head of the table. I dropped a thick stack of legal documents right in front of him. "And your contract has just been severed. For cause."
Grant laughed nervously, looking at the board members for support. "For cause? You're hysterical, Evelyn. You have no grounds to fire me."
"Embezzlement," I stated clearly, projecting my voice so every executive could hear. "Over the past six months, you have illegally diverted company funds to purchase luxury vehicles, jewelry, and private vacations for a woman named Vanessa Vale. I had federal forensic accountants working through the night to audit your expense accounts. You stole three million dollars from this company, Grant."
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The room erupted. The chairman of the board, an old friend of my father's, stood up, looking at Grant with absolute disgust.
"Pack your desk, Grant," I said, leaning in close so only he could see the lethal promise in my eyes. "You have exactly five minutes before security physically throws you out onto the street."
