Chapter 7 - The Arrest of Lady Margaret
The handcuffs clicked onto Arthur Vance’s wrists with a metallic finality that echoed off the mahogany walls of the boardroom. He offered no physical resistance as the two federal agents led him toward the heavy double doors, his head bowed, his expensive black silk shirt stained with nervous sweat. As he passed Eleanor’s wheelchair, he didn't dare look up. But just before the doors slid shut behind him, he muttered a final, venomous warning that only Chloe, standing closest to the entrance, managed to catch.
"Margaret won't go down alone," Arthur hissed under his breath. "She has the politicians in her pocket."
The doors closed, plunging the boardroom back into a heavy, suffocating silence. The remaining board members sat completely motionless, terrified that the federal agents might return for them next. Eleanor turned her wheelchair slightly, her eyes locking onto Chloe with a mixture of deep affection and lingering sorrow.
"You did remarkably well, child," Eleanor said, her voice softening considerably. "Arthur always underestimated anyone who didn't wear a designer label or carry a high-limit black card."
Chloe clutched the red-bound auditing report against her chest, the adrenaline finally beginning to fade, leaving a profound exhaustion in its wake. "I didn't do it for revenge, Madam Eleanor. I just wanted them to stop hurting people like Mrs. Gable."
"And that is precisely why you are here," Eleanor replied, gesturing toward the empty leather seat at the head of the table. "Please, sit. We have matters of governance to discuss, and time is a luxury neither of us has in abundance."
Before Chloe could take a step, the glass double doors leading to the private executive elevator dinged softly. The private chime usually reserved for VIP arrivals caused the entire board to tense up once more. The frosted glass panel slid open, revealing an unforgettable, furious silhouette.
Lady Margaret stood in the doorway, still wearing her elaborate silver and white sparkly gown from the previous night, though her hair was slightly disheveled and her makeup was streaked with genuine panic. She was clutching her diamond bracelet with one hand while holding a glowing smartphone against her ear with the other.
"Arthur, you incompetent fool, pick up your phone—" Margaret started shouting before she fully processed who was sitting inside the room.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes darted from the federal agents lingering near the corner to Eleanor, and finally landed directly on Chloe, who was standing right beside the CEO’s vacant chair.
Margaret’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. "What is this trash doing in the executive suite? Security! Get this waitress out of here immediately!"
Not a single security guard moved. The two guards stationed by the door simply crossed their arms and stared straight ahead, completely ignoring Lady Margaret’s frantic commands.
Margaret’s breath hitched. She looked around the table, realizing with sudden, horrifying clarity that her husband was gone, her allies had abandoned her, and the entire power structure of the Vance empire had fundamentally shifted in less than twenty-four hours.
"Eleanor," Margaret spat out, her voice trembling with rage and disbelief. "Have you lost your absolute mind? Handing over this company to an illiterate server? You're senile!"
Eleanor rolled her wheelchair forward an inch, her expression freezing into absolute obsidian.
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"Margaret," Eleanor said quietly, her voice ringing with deadly authority. "Your diamond bracelet is flashing red. And no, it's not from the chandelier."
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