Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Ambush
Back in downtown Chicago, Alexander hadn't slept in seventy-two hours. He sat at the head of the boardroom table at Moretti Enterprises, snapping at his vice presidents and hurling reports across the mahogany surface.
"I don't care what the federal flight regulations say!" Alexander shouted, his tie undone and his designer suit rumpled. "Find out who chartered the private medical transport out of O’Hare on August twelfth! Claire had my son in that transport! That boy is my blood, my heir, and no foreign aristocrat has the right to hide him from me!"
Suddenly, the heavy double glass doors of the boardroom swung open without warning.
In strode Marcus Thorne, the chief legal counsel for the Federal Reserve and the managing director of Vance Capital North America, flanked by four armed federal marshals and two forensic bank auditors.
"Mr. Moretti," Marcus Thorne announced, his voice slicing through the chaotic shouting like an executioner’s axe. "Please ask your executives to vacate this room immediately."
Alexander jumped to his feet, knocking his chair back against the glass wall. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?! You cannot barge into a closed executive meeting of a publicly traded firm!"
"Actually, Alexander, we can," a familiar, booming voice resonated from the entrance.
Alexander’s father, Victor Moretti, the retired founder of the conglomerate, walked into the room, leaning heavily on his silver-tipped cane, his face pale with fury and shame. Behind him walked Alexander’s mother, Helena, clutching a handkerchief to her tear-soaked eyes.
"Dad?" Alexander stammered, his bravado crumbling instantly. "What is going on?"
"You destroyed this family, you pathetic fool," Victor said, his voice trembling with righteous anger. "Vance Capital just triggered the accelerated repayment clause on the five-hundred-million-dollar syndicated credit facility that funds our hotel chain."
Alexander’s jaw dropped. "What?! That credit facility has a ten-year term! They can’t just call the debt without sixty days' notice!"
"Read Section 8 of the Vance covenant, Mr. Moretti," Marcus Thorne interjected smoothly, slapping a notarized document onto the table. "Any material fraudulent diversion of corporate funds into offshore personal accounts constitutes an immediate technical default. Over the past twelve months, you siphoned twelve million dollars of company funds through shell companies in Monaco to finance lavish personal vacations and luxury gifts for Ms. Sophia Reynolds."
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The executives around the table gasped in horror, exchanging panicked glances as the stock tickers on the wall monitors began flashing bright crimson.
"The Vance consortium has seized controlling interest of your hotel portfolio as collateral," Marcus Thorne continued calmly. "And as of nine o'clock this morning, the board of directors has been officially suspended by court order."
