Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
I stared at the phone for a fraction of a second before a dark, humorless smile touched the corners of my mouth.
"Let her call the press conference," I said smoothly.
"Marcus, are you insane?" Arthur shouted over the line. "If she passes that resolution, she freezes all your personal accounts, locks you out of the properties, and you won't even have the legal standing to fight her in civil court!"
"Arthur, listen to me," I commanded, my voice dropping into the authoritative register that had built a hotel empire from the ground up. "Do you still have the encrypted drive containing the corporate compliance audits from our Miami and Savannah properties?"
"Yes... why?"
"Bring it to the boardroom at headquarters. Meet me in twenty minutes. And Arthur? Call Judge Thomas. Tell him I need an emergency injunction filed for corporate fraud and document forgery under seal."
I cut the connection before he could answer.
I turned around to face Evelyn. She was standing by the desk, her expression a mix of terror and fierce, unwavering support.
"You're going downtown," she said, stating the obvious.
"I am," I said, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the leather chair. "My mother thinks she can play chess with my life while I'm distracted by my family. She made one fatal mistake."
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"What's that?"
"She forgot who taught me how to run this empire," I said, pulling her into my arms and pressing a fierce, lingering kiss to the top of her head. "Stay here. Lock the doors. Marcus Gable is going to remind Eleanor Vance what happens when you steal a man's legacy."
