Chapter 33 - The Boardroom Ambush
Malcolm Sloane wore a navy suit and the expression of a man convinced he had already won.
Claire arrived seven minutes late.
On purpose.
Evan entered behind her but remained against the wall.
The conference table held nine directors.
Three represented the hospitality group.
Two represented the employee trust.
Three were independent.
Claire held the final seat.
Malcolm folded his hands.
“Claire, thank you for coming.”
She sat.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
The hotel’s general counsel began.
“In light of emerging allegations involving the Holloway Center, management recommends a temporary separation between Ms. Hart-Holloway and operational control of the Riverfront Hotel.”
Claire noticed the name.
Hart-Holloway.
She had taken Evan’s surname legally but kept Holloway professionally.
Malcolm always emphasized both when he wanted to make her sound emotionally compromised.
“Allegations involving the center,” Claire repeated. “Or allegations involving me?”
“Both.”
“Which criminal agency has accused me of wrongdoing?”
Nobody answered.
“Which regulator?”
Silence.
“Which homeowner claims to have met me?”
Nothing.
Malcolm leaned forward.
“This isn’t a courtroom.”
“No. Courtrooms require evidence.”
An employee-trust representative covered a smile.
Malcolm continued.
“This is about protecting the property.”
Claire placed twenty-seven forged contracts on the table.
“Excellent. Then let’s protect people too.”
She slid the first document toward him.
“Rebecca Nolan. Fake deed transfer.”
Second.
“Harold Watkins. Fake equity rescue.”
Third.
“Monica Bell. Fake foreclosure protection.”
Malcolm’s patience thinned.
“We’ve reviewed them.”
“Have you reviewed Harbor Crest Title?”
His face did not move.
That told Claire everything.
“Yes,” Malcolm said carefully.
“And?”
“A third-party vendor.”
“Whose guarantor is Sloane Urban Renewal.”
The room shifted.
One director looked at Malcolm.
“Related?”
Malcolm gave a small shrug.
“A company founded by my brother.”
“Your brother died four years ago,” Claire said.
“Yes.”
“Who inherited his interest?”
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
“My family trust.”
“So you.”
“No. A trust.”
Claire almost admired the legal distinction.
“Who appoints the trustee?”
“I do.”
Evan looked at the ceiling, apparently asking God for patience.
Claire continued.
“Did Harbor Crest use your money?”
“I have passive investments in hundreds of entities.”
“Did you know it was acquiring distressed residential property?”
“No.”
“Did you know it was impersonating my charity?”
“No.”
“Then you must be furious.”
Malcolm blinked.
Claire leaned forward.
“Because someone used an entity you financially control to steal houses while simultaneously framing your business partner.”
She smiled.
“So obviously you’re going to help me identify them.”
Malcolm said nothing.
The employee representatives exchanged looks.
The board chair cleared his throat.
“Malcolm?”
“I’ll cooperate with any lawful inquiry.”
“Good,” Claire said.
“However,” Malcolm continued, “none of this resolves the reputational risk.”
There it was again.
He pushed a resolution across the table.
Claire read it.
Temporary management authority would transfer to Malcolm for ninety days.
He would control vendor approvals.
Communications.
Capital expenditures.
Banking authorizations.
Everything.
Claire laughed once.
“You wrote yourself emergency powers.”
“Somebody has to operate the company.”
“The company is operating.”
“Bookings dropped nine percent this morning.”
“Because someone manufactured a scandal.”
Malcolm’s voice hardened.
“Exactly.”
Claire realized something.
He wanted her angry.
He wanted a scene.
A headline.
Famous heiress melts down during fraud accusations.
She closed the resolution.
“No.”
Malcolm smiled.
“The board decides.”
“Yes.”
He called the vote.
Three hospitality representatives voted yes.
One independent joined them.
Four votes.
The two employee representatives voted no.
Two independents followed.
Four-four.
The room turned toward Claire.
Malcolm smiled wider.
“As an interested party, you should abstain.”
Claire looked at general counsel.
“Am I legally required?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
Malcolm’s smile vanished.
Five-four.
Motion defeated.
He stood.
“This is reckless.”
“No,” Claire said. “Reckless is attempting to seize operational control while a company tied to your family is implicated in the crisis.”
“You’re making accusations you cannot prove.”
“Not yet.”
Malcolm gathered his papers.
At the door, he stopped.
“You built your reputation on surviving scandal, Claire. That makes people admire you.”
He turned.
“But it also makes them ready to believe the next scandal.”
The sentence landed because it was intelligent.
True, even.
Claire did not pretend otherwise.
“You’re right.”
Malcolm seemed surprised.
“My history makes people suspicious.”
She stood.
“But yours is about to make investigators curious.”
He left.
Thirty seconds later, Claire’s phone rang.
Denver number.
She almost ignored it.
Then she remembered Grant.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Grant spoke without greeting.
“Claire, don’t trust Malcolm Sloane.”
Her eyes closed.
Of course.
“Grant.”
“I’m serious.”
“How do you know him?”
Silence.
Claire felt Evan watching her.
“Grant?”
Finally:
“Because he tried to hire me six months ago.”
“For what?”
Grant took a breath.
“To teach his company how to take distressed properties without looking like they took them.”
May you like
Claire stared through the boardroom windows.
The war had just become much larger.
