Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Boardroom
Three days later, the high-rise conference room of Varelli Maritime was completely silent.
Seven board members sat around the immense glass table, their faces pale as they stared at the empty seat at the head.
Everett was currently in federal custody without bail, facing thirty years for corporate fraud, conspiracy, and attempted murder.
The heavy double doors swung open, and Roman entered, flanked by Matteo and two armed private security guards.
Behind him walked Corinne, wearing a sharp, tailored ivory power suit that concealed the medical brace around her ribs.
She moved with deliberate elegance, her head held high, commanding immediate respect from every man in the room.
Roman pulled out the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table, but he didn't sit down.
Instead, he turned to Corinne, gestured to the seat, and stepped back to stand proudly behind her shoulder.
The board members exchanged nervous, terrified glances; Roman Varelli had never yielded the head of the table to anyone.
Corinne sat down, placing a slim leather portfolio onto the polished glass surface.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Corinne said, her voice cool, poised, and utterly lethal.
"Mrs. Varelli," stammered Arthur Vance, the senior finance director who had secretly taken Everett's kickbacks. "We... we were under the impression Roman would lead this emergency session."
"Roman handles the shipping," Corinne replied, opening the folder to reveal a row of forensic audit sheets. "I handle the truth."
She slid a document toward Vance, who looked down and visibly began to sweat through his tailored collar.
"That is a complete breakdown of the slush fund you operated out of Zurich for the last five years," Corinne said.
"You funneled two million dollars through Everett’s shell companies to vote against the harbor reinforcement project."
Vance’s hands shook so badly he couldn't even pick up the paper.
"I have two options for everyone in this room," Corinne continued, looking each board member dead in the eye.
"Option one: you sign your unconditional resignations and surrender all company stock back to the family trust by noon."
"Option two?" asked another terrified executive from the far end of the table.
Roman leaned forward, placing both hands on the table, his silver-blond hair falling over his forehead like a hunting wolf.
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"Option two is you deal with the U.S. Attorney, and when they are done with you, you deal with me."
The room remained dead quiet for three seconds before the sound of uncapped fountain pens filled the air.
