Chapter 5 - The Strategy Room-5
Marcus Vance’s private office on the forty-second floor of the Vance & Associates tower looked out over the entire expanse of Oakville. Maps, financial charts, and corporate flowcharts covered a massive oak conference table in the center of the room. Marcus, an imposing man in his late sixties with silver hair and eyes as sharp as cut glass, stood by the window smoking an unlit cigar while examining the contents of my father’s flash drive on a secured military-grade laptop.
"This is a masterclass in premeditated corporate fraud," Marcus muttered, scrolling through lines of encrypted data and audio files. "Gavin didn't just steal your shares, Naomi. He’s been systematically looting Summit's R&D division to fund a front company called Nexus Bio-Tech, registered under his mother Celina's maiden name. If these bank logs hold up under forensic audit—and they will—Gavin is looking at twenty years in federal prison for embezzlement and securities fraud."
I sat across from him, sipping a hot cup of black coffee. The physical exhaustion from the storm had faded, replaced by an adrenaline-fueled clarity. "What about the murder investigation regarding my father's car crash?"
Marcus exhaled slowly, setting the laptop down. "That requires more delicate handling. Police Chief Henderson is loyal, but Gavin has already been buttering up local politicians with campaign donations. If we drop a murder accusation without airtight physical evidence from the wreckage site, Gavin's high-priced defense attorneys will turn it into a circus. We need to strike where it hurts him most first: his pride, his position, and his bank account."
"How do we execute this?" I asked, leaning forward. "Tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM, Gavin is chairing his first official emergency board meeting to cement his control over Summit Enterprises. Every major investor, media outlet, and executive will be in attendance."
A slow, wolfish grin spread across Marcus’s weathered face. "Exactly. Which means that is the exact moment we pull the curtain back."
He walked over to a whiteboard and picked up a marker. "Here is our game plan. First thing in the morning, we file an emergency injunction with the State Supreme Court citing Section 14 coercion, nullifying the forged share transfer documents you signed while febrile. Second, we submit copies of these forensic audit logs to the Securities and Exchange Commission and the local district attorney's office. And third..." Marcus paused, tapping the marker against the board. "...we walk through the front doors of Summit Enterprises precisely at 10:05 AM—five minutes after Gavin calls the meeting to order—and serve him with civil and criminal summonses in front of every single board member and journalist he invited to witness his coronation."
I stared at the whiteboard, visualizing the scene. Gavin standing at the podium, basking in the applause of sycophants and corporate climbers, only to watch his entire world implode the second the double doors opened.
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"I love it," I said softly. "Let's make sure the execution is flawless."
"It will be," Marcus promised, opening a drawer and pulling out a pristine, tailored charcoal-gray pantsuit that matched the one I used to wear when I sat on the board as my father's senior advisor. "Put this on, Naomi. The grieving widow act is over. It's time for the queen to reclaim her throne."
