Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4 — The Corporate Guillotine
By 9:00 AM, the penthouse was fully secured. Marcus had stationed armed guards at every entry point, the private elevator, and the lobby. The children were awake, bathed, and currently eating a massive stack of pancakes prepared by my private chef. Johnny still looked at me with suspicion, but Paul and Lily were already laughing. I kissed Emily on the forehead, promising I would be back before dinner. I put on my sharpest charcoal suit, tied a silk tie, and locked my expression into a mask of pure ice. I wasn't Nathan the husband right now. I was Nathan Brooks, the CEO. My driver took me directly to the Brooks Enterprises headquarters in Midtown. The building was buzzing with the usual morning chaos, but the boardroom on the top floor was dead silent. I had called an emergency board meeting. Attendance was mandatory. When I walked through the heavy oak doors, the twelve members of my board were already seated. At the far end of the table, sitting with a smug, relaxed posture, was Harold Pierce. He was sipping an espresso, wearing a custom Italian suit, looking entirely unbothered. He thought he had won. He thought his men had handled the problem in West Virginia. He thought I was here to beg him for mercy. My mother, Eleanor, sat to his right, looking annoyed that I had interrupted her morning schedule. "Nathan, darling, what is the meaning of this?" my mother sighed. "You're supposed to be on your honeymoon with... the help." I ignored her insult, walking to the head of the table and remaining standing. I placed a thick, black leather folder on the mahogany surface. "Good morning, everyone," I said, my voice echoing in the large room. "I called this meeting to discuss an immediate and permanent restructuring of our executive board." Harold chuckled, setting his espresso cup down. "Restructuring? Nathan, you're a newlywed. Your mind is clearly clouded." "I own forty percent of this company's voting shares. You can't restructure without my approval." "Actually, Harold, I can," I replied smoothly. "According to the morality and ethics clause in our founding charter, any board member under federal indictment forfeits their voting rights immediately." The room went dead silent. My mother frowned. "Federal indictment? Nathan, what on earth are you talking about?" Harold's smug smile faltered just a fraction, but he quickly recovered. "Are you trying to threaten me, boy?" Harold sneered. "I've been in this game since before you were born. You don't have the teeth to bite me." I opened the black folder. I didn't hand the papers to him. I slid them down the table to my mother. "Mother, I want you to look at those documents," I commanded. Eleanor picked up the papers, putting on her reading glasses. As she read, the blood slowly drained from her perfectly manicured face. "Harold..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "What is this? Shell companies? Funneling money through my children's charity?" "It's a fabrication," Harold snapped, standing up. "Nathan is trying to push me out because he married a hysterical maid." "A maid," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly calm, "whose brother you murdered." The board members gasped, murmuring nervously to each other. "You are insane," Harold yelled, pointing a finger at me. "I'll sue you for defamation! I'll strip this company to the bone!" I pressed a button on the remote in my hand. The massive screen behind me lowered, displaying a high-resolution photograph. It was the sworn affidavit from the safety inspector he had bribed. "We have the inspector, Harold," I said loudly over the rising panic in the room. "We have the bank transfers. We have the offshore accounts." "And most importantly, we have the three thugs you hired last night to murder three innocent children." Harold froze. For the first time in his life, the invincible billionaire realized he was trapped. His face turned a mottled, ugly shade of red. "You went to West Virginia," he breathed, realizing his men had failed. "I did," I confirmed. "And I brought the children home." "You think the police will touch me?" Harold laughed, a desperate, unhinged sound. "I buy police chiefs for breakfast!" "Local police, yes," I agreed. "But I didn't call the local police, Harold." Right on cue, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom burst open. Six agents in windbreakers bearing the letters FBI marched into the room. They were led by Special Agent Vance, a man who had been investigating Pierce's charities for two years but lacked the smoking gun. I had handed him the gun, the bullets, and the fingerprints. "Harold Pierce," Agent Vance said loudly, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "You are under arrest for racketeering, money laundering, and conspiracy to commit murder." The boardroom erupted into chaos. My mother stood up, backing away from Harold as if he were a poisonous snake. Harold didn't fight the agents. He just stared at me, his eyes filled with a venomous, burning hatred. As they locked the cuffs around his wrists, he leaned forward over the table. "She's trash, Nathan," he spat. "You ruined your legacy for a piece of white-trash garbage." I walked around the table, stopping inches from his face. "My legacy," I whispered coldly, "is just beginning. Enjoy the rest of your pathetic life in a cage, Harold." I watched with absolute satisfaction as they dragged him out of the room. The corporate guillotine had fallen. And I hadn't even broken a sweat.
