Chapter 7 - The Boardroom Strike
The executive boardroom of Vanguard Holdings overlooked the financial district. The air inside was thick with tension as Arthur Whitaker and Thomas Pierce sat across from Elena Vale.
Dominic stood near the door, his arms crossed, acting purely as his wife's security detail. The shift in dynamics was absolute; the men in the room weren't negotiating with the mafia boss—they were negotiating with the woman their sons had humiliated.
"Mrs. Vale," Arthur Whitaker said, his voice strained as he tried to maintain a professional demeanor. "We had nothing to do with what happened at the Monarch Room. Our sons have been disciplined. Grant has been cut off from his trust fund completely."
"Your sons didn't act in a vacuum, Mr. Whitaker," Elena said, tossing a thick folder onto the mahogany table. "They grew up watching you treat the people who build your buildings and clean your offices like background noise. They thought they could get away with it because you always buy your way out of trouble."
Thomas Pierce wiped his brow. "What do you want from us? If we don't buy Richard’s shares, the entire development market in the city will crash. It will hurt your husband’s businesses too."
"My husband’s businesses are diversified," Elena said coldly. "Yours are not. Here are my terms: Vanguard Holdings will buy Richard Hale’s shares, but you will not pay him market value. You will pay him exactly one dollar."
The two executives gasped. "That’s illegal! That’s extortion!"
"It’s a forced acquisition," Elena corrected them, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You will buy the shares for a dollar, and then you will transfer fifty-one percent of Vanguard’s voting stock to a new charitable foundation managed by my office. That foundation will oversee affordable housing and fair wages for construction workers on the South Side."
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Arthur Whitaker looked at Dominic, hoping for some sign of mercy. But Dominic merely raised his coffee cup in a silent toast to his wife.
"You have until five o'clock to sign the transfer," Elena said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "If you don't, the ports close tomorrow. And your ships will rot at the docks."
