Chapter 3 - The Scramble for Survival
Derek didn’t sign.
Instead, fueled by sheer panic and absolute arrogance, he snatched up his briefcase, grabbed Vanessa by the wrist, and bolted for the boardroom doors.
“This isn’t over!” Derek yelled over his shoulder, his voice cracking with hysteria. “The board will never accept you! You’ll ruin the company with your vindictive little games! We’ll see you in court, Elena!”
The heavy doors slammed shut behind them.
For ten seconds, the boardroom remained utterly silent. Then, Mr. Henderson cleared his throat, stood up, and bowed his head slightly toward me.
“Well,” the old logistics director murmured, a grim smile touching his lips. “I must admit, your father always said you had his instincts, Elena. We just didn’t realize he meant all of his instincts.”
“Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I said, walking slowly to the head of the table and sitting down in the high-backed leather chair. “The transition of power is complete. Let’s get to work. We have an international supply chain crisis in Singapore to resolve before the market opens tomorrow.”
While the board members scrambled to open their laptops and adjust to the new reality, Derek and Vanessa were already in freefall.
They rode the private elevator down to the underground parking garage in absolute silence. The moment the elevator doors slid open, Vanessa turned on him, her face twisted in fury.
“What do you mean, she’s the majority shareholder?!” Vanessa shrieked, her designer heels clicking frantically against the concrete. “You told me her family was just figureheads! You told me you owned half the empire!”
“Shut up, Vanessa!” Derek roared, yanking open the door of his silver Porsche Panamera. “I was played! She lied to me for six years! Every contract, every acquisition—she was running the show behind the scenes while I thought I was the golden boy!”
“Well, fix it!” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Where are we going? I’m not staying in that apartment if her family’s trust owns it!”
Derek threw his briefcase into the passenger seat and climbed behind the steering wheel. He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing a number with trembling fingers.
“I’m calling Victor,” Derek muttered, staring blankly through the windshield. “Victor Sterling. My corporate attorney. He’ll find a loophole. Adrian’s will has to have a contesting clause. We can break her trust in probate court.”
He pressed speakerphone. The phone rang three times.
Then a crisp, professional voice answered: “Sterling Law Offices. How may I direct your call?”
“Put Victor on,” Derek snapped. “It’s Derek Vance.”
There was a brief pause on the line. Then a different voice came on—deep, cold, and entirely unfamiliar.
“Mr. Vance. This is Partner Arthur Vance of Sterling & Associates.”
“Victor’s uncle?” Derek frowned. “Listen, Victor isn’t here, but you need to take my case. My wife—Elena—has illegally seized control of Hawthorne Global using fabricated board documents, and—ing—hired your firm to—wait, why are you laughing?”
On the other end of the line, Arthur Vance let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“Mr. Vance, Victor is no longer with this firm. As of this morning, Sterling & Associates has been retained exclusively by Ms. Elena Hawthorne to prosecute your corporate embezzlement and handle your immediate, uncontested divorce. I suggest you retain criminal defense counsel. You’re going to need it.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Derek dropped the phone onto the center console. The screen went black.
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Vanessa stared at him, her eyes wide with mounting horror. “Derek... what did he just say?”
Derek didn’t answer. He slumped against the steering wheel, realizing for the very first time that the woman he had tried to crush in the mud outside his father-in-law’s grave hadn’t just defeated him—she had locked every door, sealed every exit, and swallowed the key.
