Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The boardroom on the forty-second floor of the Vance Engineering Tower in downtown Denver was built out of dark mahogany and floor-to-ceiling glass. From the windows, one could see the entire snow-capped expanse of the Rocky Mountains stretching across the horizon.
At 10:00 AM on Monday morning, the twelve members of the board of directors sat around the massive oval conference table.
Marcus sat at the head of the table, wearing a dark grey suit. He had spent the entire weekend trying to call me, trying to text Ethan, and attempting to reach out to Victoria Sterling, but every single line had been blocked.
Beside Marcus sat his senior corporate counsel, a sharp, silver-haired attorney named Richard Thorne.
At the opposite end of the table sat Victoria Sterling and me.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Victoria began, standing up and opening her leather briefcase with a crisp, authoritative snap. “We are here today to discuss the immediate resignation of Mr. Marcus Vance as CEO and Chairman of Vance Engineering Holdings.”
A loud, angry murmur broke out among the board members.
“Resignation?” one senior board member, Arthur Pendelton, shouted, leaning forward. “Victoria, Marcus built this firm from the ground up! He holds thirty-five percent of the voting equity! You can’t come into this boardroom and demand his resignation based on a domestic dispute!”
“It is not a domestic dispute, Mr. Pendelton,” Victoria said smoothly, pulling a stack of blue-bound documents from her briefcase and sliding them across the polished wood table to each director. “It is a matter of grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, and breaches of fiduciary duty.”
Marcus’s attorney immediately stood up. “Your Honor—I mean, members of the board—these accusations are completely unsubstantiated—”
“Page four of your folder, directors,” Victoria interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a broadsword. “Itemized records showing that over the last six years, Mr. Vance diverted approximately $1.2 million in corporate research funds to a dummy shell company registered in Delaware under the name E.L. Management LLC. That company is owned entirely by Ms. Evelyn Lewis.”
The board directors frantically flipped open their folders. Arthur Pendelton’s eyes widened as he scanned the certified bank ledgers, complete with Marcus’s digital corporate signature on every transfer authorization.
“Furthermore,” Victoria continued, looking directly at Marcus, “Mrs. Audrey Vance owns a forty percent voting share in Vance Engineering, granted to her under the original corporate charter of 2008 as the co-founder who provided the initial four hundred thousand dollars in seed capital from her family estate.”
The directors gasped, turning their heads simultaneously to stare at me.
I sat straight in my leather chair, wearing a tailored cream-colored blazer, my hands neatly clasped on the table.
“Marcus,” Arthur Pendelton whispered, his voice trembling with fury as he looked at his longtime business partner. “Is this true? Did you use corporate funds to finance your mistress’s business?”
Marcus looked down at his hands. He opened his mouth to lie, to make excuses, to spin another elaborate tale about 'charitable loans' and 'unforeseen business expenses,' but the cold, hard reality of forty certified bank ledgers sat right in front of twelve men and women who held his entire life in their hands.
“I… I intended to repay the funds,” Marcus choked out, his voice barely audible.
“You won't have the chance, Mr. Vance,” I said, speaking up for the first time. My voice was steady, calm, and filled with the quiet, absolute power of a woman who had spent eighteen years waiting for this exact moment. “As forty percent shareholder, I have officially formed a voting bloc with the remaining board members. We have forty-eight hours before the Securities and Exchange Commission receives a full copy of these forensic audit files.”
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I leaned forward, looking my husband dead in his panicked, tear-filled eyes.
“Sign the surrender of your corporate shares and the uncontested divorce settlement today, Marcus,” I whispered. “Or spend the next fifteen years of your life in a federal penitentiary in Florence, Colorado.”
