Chapter 8 - The Boardroom Coup at Dawn
The executive boardroom of Vance Maritime Corporation was dead silent as the first rays of morning light broke through the bulletproof glass windows overlooking New York Harbor. Around the massive mahogany table sat fourteen regional directors and corporate executives, all staring nervously down at their tablets. Word of Viktor Rostov’s capture and the failed offshore terminal heist had spread through the financial underworld before dawn. At the far end of the table sat Arthur Vance—my cousin and the corporate traitor who had quietly financed Vivian’s attempt to breach the subterranean vault. Arthur’s face was slick with sweat, his collar choking him as he tried to maintain an air of defiance. “This is an outrage, Gabriel!” Arthur barked, slamming his palm onto the table. “You’ve dragged federal authorities into our private shipping lanes and turned our terminals into a war zone! The board demands an emergency vote of no confidence!” I continued the slow, rhythmic tapping of my signet ring against the wood. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Is that right, Arthur?” I asked softly. “You call securing our shipping lanes a war zone? Or are you simply upset that your proxy operation with Vivian didn't go according to plan?” Arthur’s face flushed crimson. He stood up abruptly, pointing a shaking finger at my chest. “You have zero proof! We are voting to strip you of your executive voting rights effective immediately!” I gave a single, imperceptible nod toward the heavy oak doors at the back of the room. They swung open, and Marcus stepped inside, flanked by federal marshals carrying thick Department of Justice dossiers. Arthur froze mid-sentence, his mouth hanging half-open. “Allow me to introduce our guests from the federal anti-corruption division,” I said smoothly. “They brought copies of the wire transfers linking Arthur’s offshore accounts directly to the syndicate payroll.” The color drained entirely from Arthur’s face as his knees buckled beneath him.
