Chapter 5 - The Boardroom Trap
The main conference room on the 40th floor of the Hawthorne Tower in Manhattan was lined with floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a sweeping view of Central Park covered in fresh snow.
Around the massive mahogany table sat six people—the remaining board of directors of Hawthorne Enterprises, led by Richard Hawthorne, Patrick’s uncle. Richard was a man in his late sixties with silver hair, sharp features, and an air of untouchable arrogance.
"This meeting is a waste of time," Richard snapped, checking his gold Patek Philippe watch. "It’s Boxing Day. We should be at our country estates, not sitting here listening to some wild rumor brought by Julian."
"It's not a rumor, Richard," Julian Vance said, entering the boardroom with a leather folder under his arm. Behind him walked Patrick, wearing a tailored navy suit, his posture straight, his expression unreadable.
Richard looked at Patrick, a cold, disdainful sneer rising on his face. "Who is this? Some low-level manager you're trying to promote?"
"This is Patrick Hale," Julian announced, his voice echoing through the silent room. "Or, to use his rightful name, Patrick Arthur Hawthorne. The son of Arthur and Evelyn Hawthorne."
A collective gasp rippled through the boardroom.
Richard laughed aloud, though the sound was hollow and sharp. "Is this a joke? Arthur's son died thirty years ago! The police file was closed! You think you can walk in here with some street orphan and claim a multi-billion dollar trust?"
"I brought more than claims, Richard," Patrick said, taking a seat at the head of the table—the seat that had remained vacant since his biological father's death.
Patrick pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag and placed it on the glass table. Inside lay the gold signet ring. Beside it, he laid a sealed envelope containing the results of an expedited DNA test performed overnight using samples from Arthur Hawthorne’s preserved medical records.
"A 99.99% biological match," Julian declared, slamming the certified lab report onto the table. "Under Clause 4 of the Hawthorne Founding Trust, all voting rights held by secondary relatives are hereby revoked immediately. Patrick Hale holds 51% of the total company stock."
Richard’s face turned from red to a ghostly, mottled grey. His hands shook as he picked up the DNA report, his eyes scanning the official government seals. "This... this is impossible... Eleanor took you... she died..."
"No, she didn't," Patrick said, leaning forward, his eyes locking onto Richard’s with terrifying intensity. "She lived long enough to raise me to be better than you. And she kept every record of the bank transfers you made thirty years ago to pay off the clinic doctor to declare me dead."
Richard slammed his fist on the table. "You have no proof of that!"
"I don't need to prove it in court today," Patrick replied coldly. "The police are already reviewing the documents. But right now, as controlling owner of this company, my first executive decision is to terminate your employment, strip your stock options, and have security escort you off the premises."
Before Richard could scream a reply, the heavy boardroom doors swung open. Two uniformed officers from the NYPD walked in, followed by Detective Vance.
"Richard Hawthorne?" Detective Vance asked, holding up a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, fraudulent appropriation of trust funds, and child abduction dating back to December 1994."
"You can't do this to me!" Richard shrieked as the officers dragged him from his chair, forcing his arms behind his back. "I built this company! Me!"
"You built it on stolen blood," Patrick said flatly as his uncle was dragged past him.
As the commotion cleared, Patrick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from his IT specialist, David:
May you like
[Alert: Clara has just entered your private residence with two moving vans and a locksmith. She’s breaking into the main safe.]
Patrick looked down at his watch and smiled a cold, dangerous smile. "Julian, stay here and take control of the board. I have one last trash bin to clean out at home."
