Chapter 10
The private elevator ascended the forty-two stories in absolute silence. The digital floor numbers ticked upward in glowing red LED digits: 38, 39, 40, 41, 42. With every floor, the air inside the cabin felt heavier, charged with the impending confrontation awaiting them behind the mahogany doors of the executive boardroom.
When the chime signaled their arrival, the doors slid open to reveal a sprawling, minimalist penthouse floor finished in polished white marble, brushed chrome, and floor-to-ceiling glass panels offering a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline.
Inside the glass-walled boardroom at the center of the floor, five senior board members sat around a massive teak conference table. At the head of the table sat Victor Vance, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit, speaking in a low, persuasive tone while pointing to a slide presentation displayed on a massive digital monitor.
Arthur stepped off the elevator with measured, deliberate strides. Clara walked beside him, Penny resting safely and quietly against her chest in the soft tote bag.
As Arthur pushed open the heavy glass doors of the boardroom, the ambient chatter among the board members instantly died away. Victor stopped mid-sentence, his hand hovering over the remote clicker. A micro-expression of sheer, unadulterated shock crossed his polished features before he quickly masked it with his signature smirk.
“Arthur,” Victor said smoothly, standing up and adjusting his jacket cuffs. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d be able to make it. Given the... unfortunate structural complications at the upstate estate, we assumed you were tied up dealing with local authorities.”
Arthur walked straight to the head of the table, placing the waterproof canvas case squarely in front of Victor with a heavy thud that rattled the crystal water pitchers.
“I was detained, Victor. But not by the fire,” Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying an icy resonance that commanded total silence in the room. “Someone tried to burn my home and trap us in the subterranean vault to ensure I couldn't make it to this exact meeting.”
A murmur rippled through the seated board members. An elderly woman on the left, Mrs. Kensington, gasped and clutched her pearls.
“Good heavens, Arthur! A fire?” she asked, looking between Arthur and Victor with alarm.
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“An engineered fire, Mrs. Kensington,” Arthur stated clearly, locking eyes with his cousin. “Designed specifically to destroy the 1998 master charter documents—documents that guarantee absolute voting majority control over Blackwood Enterprises.”
Victor didn’t flinch. He offered a cold, dismissive chuckle, shaking his head with theatrical disappointment. “Really, Arthur? Melodramatic arson accusations because your legacy property suffered an unfortunate electrical accident? You’re losing your grip. And more importantly, you’re missing the deadline.” Victor pointed to the digital clock on the wall: 8:58 AM. “Two minutes until the mandated asset liquidation vote goes live. Without the physical 1998 charter on file to contest the restructuring clause, the board moves forward by default.”
