Chapter 8 - The Fall of Crosby Vane
The executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor of the Mercer Tower in downtown Chicago was packed with nervous shareholders, anxious board members, and corporate vultures who had sided with Crosby Vane the moment they thought Lawson Mercer was out of the picture.
Crosby Vane sat at the head of the table, wearing a smug, triumphant smirk as he adjusted his Italian silk tie.
“Gentlemen, effective immediately, the Mercer family trust is placed under receivership due to the incapacitation of its primary stakeholder,” Crosby announced, gesturing grandly to his legal team. “We are restructuring the corporation to ensure maximum shareholder value.”
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom didn't just open—they slammed violently against the interior walls, splintering the reinforced hinges.
Security guards rushed toward the entrance, but they stopped dead in their tracks as Prescott Hale and four heavily armed private contractors stepped into the room, their weapons casually leveled at the ceiling.
And behind them walked Lawson Mercer.
He looked different than he had a month ago. The desperate, exhausted father was gone. In his place stood the ruthless, untouchable titan of Chicago’s underworld and corporate empire. His shoulders were squared, his gaze fixed entirely on Crosby Vane.
Crosby turned pale, his smug smile evaporating instantly. “Lawson... how... you’re supposed to be in Montana with your dying—”
“My children are alive, healthy, and playing in the mountains, Crosby,” Lawson interrupted, his voice cutting through the silent room like a razor blade. “Which is a lot more than I can say for your freedom.”
Crosby stood up, stammering. “You can’t just storm in here! The board has voted! I control the majority of the voting shares!”
“You control nothing,” Lawson said, stepping right up to the head of the table and slamming a thick stack of federal documents and encrypted flash drives onto the polished wood. “Federal indictments for corporate espionage, environmental terrorism, attempted murder of minors, and international money laundering. Every single bank account you own has been frozen by the Department of Justice as of two minutes ago.”
Crosby’s knees buckled. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. “This is a setup... a coup—”
“It’s accountability,” Lawson said coldly.
Two federal agents in dark suits stepped out from the corridor behind Lawson, walking directly up to Crosby and snapping steel handcuffs around his wrists with a sharp, echoing click.
“Crosby Vane, you are under arrest for federal racketeering, conspiracy, and attempted assassination,” the lead agent declared loudly.
May you like
As Crosby was dragged out of the boardroom, kicking and screaming in absolute humiliation, the remaining board members sat in petrified silence, staring down at their polished shoes, terrified to even breathe in Lawson’s direction.
Lawson didn't spare them a glance. He turned on his heel and walked out of the boardroom, his mission complete.
