A knock at the door interrupts him.
He walks over and unlocks it. Sarah stands there, trembling as she holds out a thick, black leather folder.
"The file, sir," she says quietly.
He takes it. "Thank you, Sarah. That will be all."
He shuts the door in her face and locks it again before walking back to the desk and dropping the folder onto the surface. It lands with a heavythud.
"Sit down," he orders.
"I prefer to stand," I say, refusing to give him an inch.
He shrugs. "Suit yourself."
He opens the folder and spreads the documents across the desk. "Come here. Read."
I walk to the desk, keeping the heavy wood between us as a barrier, and examine the papers.
My blood runs cold.
It’s legal paperwork. High-level corporate contracts.
Resolution of the Board of Directors: Dissolution of Current Leadership. Grant of Irrevocable Operational Proxy to Morozov Holdings Ltd.
I scan the pages, horror building with every paragraph.
It’s a massacre.
He isn’t just taking over; he’s hijacking the fleet. He’s granting himself absolute legal authority over the routes of theBlackwood Queen, theBlackwood Star, and the entire fleet, totally bypassing my father's ownership. Because I've been acting in his place since he became a shadow of himself, my signature carries the exact same legal weight as his.
He’s stripping the assets and leaving the debt in the Blackwood name.
And the final document is a power of attorney. It gives him complete, unilateral control over every decision, every bank account, every hire and fire.
"You can't do this," I whisper. "This is illegal. You can't transfer assets like this without board approval."
"I have board approval," he says calmly, sliding a voting proxy toward me signed by the three major shareholders.
"How?" I breathe. "How did you get them to sign?"
"Everyone has a price, Helena. Or a secret." He taps the paper. "Mr. Henderson has a gambling problem similar to your father's. Mrs. Gable has a son who got into some trouble with drugs in Ibiza. Trouble that my associates helped to resolve. They were very happy to sign over their voting rights."
He looks at me, face impassive.
"The board is gone. The company is mine. All that’s left is the formality."
He takes a heavy black fountain pen from his pocket, uncaps it, and sets it on the document.
"Sign."
"This..." I choke on the words. "This destroys everything. You are stealing the ships."
"I’m securing my investment," he says. "I’m moving them to a jurisdiction where the banks cannot seize them."
"You are stealing my mother's legacy!" I shout.
Morozov Holdingsmocks from the document.
