Chapter 7 - THE CRACKING EMPIRE
Forty-eight hours after the disastrous St. Regis press conference, the Vance Group was in absolute freefall.
The company’s stock plummeted 42% in two days, wiping out nearly $3 billion in market capitalization. The SEC officially froze the corporate assets of Liaison Holdings, while the District Attorney’s office formally elevated Richard Vance’s criminal charges from misdemeanor assault to felony domestic violence and witness tampering.
In the quiet luxury of the hospital suite, the high-stakes legal war was finally beginning to yield space for physical healing.
I lay in bed, my hands resting over my lower abdomen. The digital heart monitor was broadcasting a strong, steady, rhythmic sound: thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Dr. Thorne stood beside the monitor, a soft, genuine smile gracing her lips for the first time in four days.
“Look at that,” Dr. Thorne said, adjusting the ultrasound probe over my gel-covered stomach. “The subchorionic hematoma has reduced in size by over sixty percent. The pocket of fluid is reabsorbing naturally. The placental connection is stabilizing.”
Daniel burst into tears, leaning his forehead against my arm, squeezing my hand as if he would never let go. “Thank God... oh, thank God...”
“You are not completely out of the woods yet, Emily,” Dr. Thorne cautioned softly, though her eyes were warm. “You will need another three weeks of home bed rest after discharge. But as of today, the immediate threat of pregnancy loss has dropped significantly. Your baby is a fighter.”
The door opened gently, and Eleanor walked in carrying a tray of fresh soup and warm tea.
“How is our little miracle doing?” Eleanor asked, setting the tray down on the bedside table.
“The hematoma is shrinking,” I smiled, wiping a tear from my eye. “We might actually get to go home by Friday.”
Daniel’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, his expression instantly sobering. “It’s Victoria. She’s at the corporate headquarters.”
He put the call on speakerphone.
“Daniel?” Victoria’s voice came through, sounding exhausted but fierce. “It’s over. The independent directors just held an emergency floor vote. Uncle Arthur abstained, and with father under federal house arrest, the board voted unanimously to remove Richard Vance as Chairman and CEO.”
Daniel let out a long, slow breath. “Who is taking over as interim chair?”
“The board appointed Eleanor,” Victoria said, a hint of a smile in her voice.
We all turned to look at Eleanor.
Eleanor paused, holding her teacup halfway to her lips, her eyes widening in quiet shock. “Me?”
“You are the only person associated with this family whom Wall Street trusts right now, Mother,” Victoria said through the phone. “The market reacted to Evelyn Reed’s press release by rallying four points the moment your name was floated. They know you won't cover up his fraud. They know you stand with Emily.”
Eleanor looked down at her simple, unvarnished hands, then at me, then at the glossy ultrasound photo pinned to the hospital wall beside my bed.
A soft, powerful grace seemed to settle over her shoulders.
“Tell the board I accept,” Eleanor said calmly into the phone. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” Victoria replied.
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“Every dollar of profit generated by the Vance Group’s charitable foundation will be permanently redirected toward funding legal aid centers for victims of domestic abuse and low-income maternal health clinics across the state.”
On the other end of the line, Victoria let out a quiet, emotional laugh. “Consider it done, Madam Chairwoman.”
