Chapter 7 - AMBUSH IN THE SKY
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The 52nd floor of the Vance Tower smelled of rich mahogany, Cuban cigars, and nervous greed.
Seven senior board members sat around the forty-foot glass conference table, looking over a draft press release. At the head of the table stood Thomas Sterling, the chief operating officer, wearing a smug, rehearsed expression of manufactured grief.
"Gentlemen, it’s a tragedy," Sterling was saying, adjusting his gold tie clip. "Victoria was a visionary, but her sudden... medical collapse leaves us with no choice. We execute the succession contingency plan. Julian will step in as interim chairman once probate clears tomorrow, and I will assume full operational control as CEO."
"Has Julian confirmed the overseas liquidity lines?" asked Miller, the head of the audit committee. "The European suppliers are panicking about rumors of insolvency."
Sterling waved a dismissive hand. "Julian assured me two hours ago that the trust assets are being consolidated as we speak. Victoria’s personal accounts will backstop any short-term deficits."
"How generous of me," a sharp, clear voice echoed from the heavy double doors at the back of the boardroom.
The entire room went dead silent.
Thomas Sterling froze mid-sentence, his coffee cup hovering inches from his lips.
The double doors swung wide open. Victoria Vance walked in, heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. She was dressed in an immaculate charcoal-gray Alexander McQueen powersuit, carrying a slim leather folder. Behind her strode Marcus Kane and four armed private security officers in charcoal suits.
Sterling dropped his cup. Hot black coffee splashed across his thousand-dollar paperwork, pooling over the mahogany table.
"V-Victoria?" Sterling stammered, his face turning an ash-gray color. "You're... you were in intensive care! The doctors said—"
"The doctors work for me, Thomas," Victoria said, walking straight down the center of the room. "Not for you, and certainly not for my soon-to-be ex-husband."
She reached the head of the table. Sterling instinctively scrambled backward out of the executive chair, nearly tripping over his own leather briefcase.
Victoria didn't sit. She placed both palms flat on the glass table, leaning forward until her gaze bored into Sterling’s terrified eyes.
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"Sit down, Thomas," Victoria commanded softly. "Or don't. It won't make a difference to what happens in the next ten minutes."
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