"Close the door," Preston orders.
The contractors pull the doors shut. The heavythudechoes in the quiet room.
"You brought her here," Preston says, his voice devoid of the pleasant host persona he wore in the ballroom. "After our conversation two weeks ago, you brought that woman into my house wearing a dress designed to humiliate your brother."
"I brought my fiancée to a family event," I reply, walking toward the empty chair at the opposite end of the table. I don't sit down. I stand behind it, resting my hands on the leather backrest. "If Simon is humiliated by the sight of a woman he discarded, that is a failure of his own ego, not my wardrobe choices."
Simon flinches, but he doesn't speak.
"We are not here to discuss wardrobes," Preston says coldly. He looks at the board members. "We are here to discuss the liability currently standing in my ballroom."
"There is no liability," I say.
"Isn't there?" Preston opens a drawer in the desk. He pulls out a manila folder. It is not the shallow debt file he waved at dinner. It is a deeper, uglier copy. "Because I have documentation proving that Barbara Jennings was involved in a money-laundering operation for a South Side syndicate. I have proof that the seed money for Audrey’s architecture firm was dirty."
The board members shift uncomfortably in their seats. Richard Sterling looks like he wants to sink into the floor.
"You are bluffing, Malcolm," Preston continues, his eyes locking onto mine. "You threatened to hand our encrypted files to the SEC if I released this information. But you won't do it. You won't destroy the company you built just to protect a stray."
I stare at my father.
He is so completely consumed by his own arrogance that he cannot comprehend a reality where money is not the ultimate leverage.
"I am not bluffing," I say quietly.
I reach into the inside pocket of my tuxedo jacket. I pull out a sleek, black USB drive and toss it onto the center of the mahogany table.
It hits the wood with a sharpclack.
"That drive contains the unencrypted ledgers for the Cayman accounts," I say, my voice dropping to a lethal, absolute register. "It contains the forged transfer documents Simon used to steal Audrey’s company. It contains every illegal transaction this holding company has executed in the last ten years."
Preston stares at the drive. The color drains from his face.
"If you open that folder," I continue, looking directly at my father, "if you speak a single word about Audrey’s mother to the press, or to this board, Grant will send a duplicate of that drive directly to the federal prosecutor’s office. I will burn this entire empire to the ground, Preston, and I will gladly stand in the ashes."
The silence in the library is absolute.
Simon lets out a choked, panicked breath. "You’re insane. You’ll go to prison too."
"I have immunity," I lie smoothly. "I negotiated it yesterday."
It is a complete fabrication, but the sheer, terrifying confidence in my delivery makes it undeniable.
Preston looks at the USB drive. His hands are trembling slightly. He realizes, finally, that he has completely lost. He tried to use my company as leverage, and I just handed him the detonator.
"You are no longer the CEO of Vance Security," Preston whispers, his voice shaking with rage. "The board will vote you out tonight."
"The board can vote however they please," I reply, stepping away from the chair. "I resign."
I turn my back on the most powerful men in Chicago and walk toward the door.
"Malcolm!" Preston shouts, his composure completely shattering.
I don't stop. I pull the heavy oak doors open and step back out into the hallway.
The adrenaline in my veins is burning hot and fast. I just threw away a billion-dollar company. I just severed my ties to my bloodline permanently.
But as I walk down the corridor toward the ballroom, the only thing I feel is an overwhelming, crushing sense of relief.
