Chapter 6 - The Wrecking Ball of Preferred Shares
The ballroom was paralyzed. No one dared to sip their champagne, no one dared to cough.
Richard stared at the blue document as if it were a coiled viper. "You can't revoke my shares! I am the founder! I am the Chief Executive Officer of Sentinel Data!"
"You were the CEO, Richard," Serena said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper that cut through his arrogant facade. "The voting preferred shares owned by the Vance-Sterling Trust carry a mandatory moral turpitude and financial mismanagement clause."
Julian turned the document to show the board resolutions.
"An emergency board meeting was convened at six-thirty this evening," Julian explained, reading from the certified minutes. "With fifty-one percent of the voting shares represented by Mrs. Serena Sterling, the board voted unanimously to terminate your employment for cause, freeze your severance package, and halt the Monday morning public offering pending a forensic federal audit."
Richard stumbled backward, his knees hitting the edge of a high-top cocktail table, knocking over two crystal flutes.
The sound of shattering glass on the marble floor was like a gunshot signaling the end of his empire.
"No... wait, Julian, listen to me!" Richard pleaded, all of his bravado disintegrating into raw, unadulterated panic. "We can settle this internally! The IPO is worth billions! If you cancel the listing, the company loses everything!"
"The company loses nothing, Richard," Serena replied calmly. "The board voted to restructure the public offering under a private recapitalization plan funded directly by the Sterling Family Trust. The underwriting syndicate has already agreed to proceed under my leadership as interim Chairman."
The Morgan Stanley bankers immediately stepped to Serena’s side, nodding respectfully.
"We look forward to working with you on Monday morning, Mrs. Sterling," Arthur the banker said, extending his hand.
Serena shook his hand with a serene, confident smile, completely erasing Richard from the corporate hierarchy in front of two thousand high-society witnesses.
Chloe Davenport stood alone near the fountain, clutching her liquid-gold dress, sobbing uncontrollably as her followers and former admirers recorded her humiliation on their smartphones.
The society photographers weren't taking pictures of her necklace anymore; they were taking pictures of her mascara running down her cheeks while security guards surrounded her table.
Two private security officers walked up to Chloe, gesturing toward the service exit.
"Miss Davenport," the head guard said politely but firmly. "Your invitation has been revoked by the gala committee. Please collect your wrap and exit through the lower courtyard."
May you like
Chloe looked at Richard, waiting for him to defend her, to shout at the guards, to use his billions to protect her.
Richard didn't even look in her direction. He stood staring at his wife, completely undone, stripped of his money, his company, and his dignity.
