PART 4: Dawn of the Boardroom Ambush
PART 4: Dawn of the Boardroom Ambush
Executive corridors echo with impending doom.
Tuesday morning arrived with a biting chill that swept across Charleston Harbor, rattling the glass facade of the sleek twenty-story Mercer Holdings tower on Market Street.
I stepped out of the private elevator on the executive floor right beside Vivian, both of us dressed in matching shades of dark, authoritative charcoal, carrying identical leather folios containing the forensic audit results.
The executive hallway was completely silent, save for the click of our heels against the polished marble floor.
At precisely 8:58 AM, Daniel and Elena stepped off the opposite elevator, both looking impeccably polished, though faint shadows of exhaustion lingered under Daniel’s eyes from forty-eight hours of radio silence.
A yellowish-green bruise was still faintly visible beneath the heavy layer of concealer smeared across his left cheekbone where Vivian’s palm had struck him.
Elena was carrying her signature blue leather portfolio—the exact same color as the confidential folder she had smugly flaunted at Sunday dinner.
They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw us standing outside the double mahogany doors of the primary boardroom.
Daniel blinked, his brow furrowing in deep confusion as he looked from his mother to me.
"Mom? Claire?" Daniel asked, his voice pitching slightly upward with nervous irritation. "What are you two doing here? This is a closed executive session. Family members aren't permitted on the floor during board meetings."
Vivian didn't even break her stride.
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She walked past him as if he were an annoying stranger blocking a hotel lobby, pushing open the heavy boardroom doors and striding directly toward the head of the long mahogany table.
I followed right behind her, my head held high, ignoring the startled gasp that escaped Elena’s throat.
