Chapter 7 - The Morning After
By 8:00 AM the following morning, the financial world had erupted into absolute pandemonium.
The front page of the Chicago Tribune featured a photograph of Nathaniel Ashford being escorted out of the Grand Meridian in disgrace.
Above the photo ran a bold headline: ASHFORD EMPIRE CRUMBLES: TRUE HEIRESS EXPOSES 35-YEAR DECEPTION.
Trading on Ashford Global Holdings stock was temporarily halted as the board of directors scrambled into emergency session.
I arrived at the corporate headquarters on Michigan Avenue wearing a crisp, bespoke navy suit and my grandfather’s vintage gold watch.
When I stepped into the lobby, two hundred employees stood in two neat lines, applauding with genuine respect as I walked to the private elevator.
Sitting around the boardroom table were twelve senior executives, their faces white with anxiety as Samuel and I entered.
At the foot of the table sat Nathaniel, looking disheveled in a borrowed suit, accompanied by a public defender he had scrambled to hire at dawn.
His mother sat beside him, her arrogance completely stripped away, clutching a cheap paper coffee cup with trembling hands.
"Miss Bennett," the board chairman said, standing immediately to offer me the seat at the head of the table.
"We have reviewed the Bennett Trust covenants, and the board unanimously ratifies your position as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer."
Nathaniel jumped to his feet, slamming his palms against the mahogany table.
"This board cannot ratify an outsider without a shareholder vote! I demand an emergency proxy audit!"
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"You own zero voting shares, Mr. Ashford," Samuel replied smoothly, projecting the certified stock ledger on the wall screen.
"And as of seven o'clock this morning, the forensic audit revealed that you routed four million dollars of corporate funds into Vanessa Caldwell's personal accounts."
