Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Execution
By nine o'clock the following morning, the executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor of Moretti Tower was suffocating with panic.
Twenty-two board members, chief legal officers, and senior managing directors sat around the immense frosted glass table, speaking in hushed, frantic tones.
The morning financial headlines had already broken across Wall Street: Moretti Capital Credit Frozen Over Trust Irregularities.
Adriano sat at the head of the table, his eyes bloodshot, wearing an off-the-rack dark suit, clutching a cold cup of black coffee.
Across the room, Bianca Ricci sat in a stylish cream pantsuit, scrolling frantically through her phone, pretending not to notice the cold stares from the legal team.
"The Asian markets closed down four percent on our shipping notes," the chief risk officer reported grimly.
"If we cannot produce a verified title guarantee for Port Aurelia before the New York opening, the trading halt becomes permanent."
"I am handling it," Adriano barked, though the sweat beading across his brow betrayed his absolute helplessness.
"You aren't handling anything, Adriano," a clear, resonant voice announced from the open double doors.
Every head in the boardroom turned in unison.
I stepped into the room wearing a tailored midnight-blue maternity dress, my hair swept into an elegant chignon, accompanied by Lucia Bellandi and four forensic auditors.
Behind us walked Marco Moretti, Adriano’s estranged older brother and the respected chairman of the family foundation.
"Elena?" Adriano breathed, standing up so abruptly his leather chair rolled back against the mahogany wall paneling.
"What are you doing here? You aren't a voting member of this board."
"Under Section Nine of the Romano Continuity Charter, she is the sole trustee of the land underlying sixty percent of our active shipping lanes," Lucia announced, stepping forward to distribute legal notices to every director.
"Furthermore, due to unauthorized encumbrance attempts and documented forgery, Mrs. Moretti has exercised her right to suspend all operational licenses granted to Moretti Capital."
Bianca stood up, her face twisted into a sharp, sneering mask of indignation.
"This is ridiculous!" Bianca snapped, tossing her pen onto the glass table. "You're a jilted housewife throwing a tantrum because your husband left you for someone he actually desires!"
I didn't lose my temper; I didn't even raise my voice.
I turned my gaze slowly toward Bianca, looking at her with the cool detachment of an executive reviewing an obsolete invoice.
"Miss Ricci," I said calmly, nodding to Lucia’s junior partner, who immediately brought up a projected file on the main display screen.
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"Perhaps you can explain to the board why three hundred thousand dollars was wired to your personal offshore account in Cyprus yesterday morning from a shell company registered to Salvatore Vescari?"
Bianca froze, the blood draining from her lips as the detailed wire-routing numbers appeared in crisp, eighty-point font across the room.
