Chapter 5 - The Glass House Cracks
"Vivian, stop this madness!" Christopher finally found his voice, stepping between me and the weeping Brenda, though he kept his hands carefully at his sides. "Have you completely lost your mind? You’re airing our private business in front of the entire financial district! Do you know what this will do to Grand Horizon's stock price when the opening bell rings tomorrow morning?"
"Grand Horizon's stock will be completely fine, Christopher," I replied, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. "Because tomorrow morning, the board will announce that the parasite who was embezzling sixty-eight million dollars has been removed, and the founder's daughter has resumed her position as Chief Executive Officer."
"You can't remove me!" Christopher hissed, his face contorting into a desperate mask of defiance. "I control the voting majority! Arthur left the management voting proxy to me in his will!"
Luke stepped down from the stage, holding a thick, bound leather portfolio. He stopped beside me and handed the documents to Julian Thorne, who happened to be Grand Horizon’s primary legal counsel.
"Read page forty-two, Mr. Thorne," Luke said smoothly. "Out loud, please. For the benefit of the shareholders present in the room."
Julian cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his gold-rimmed reading glasses. He flipped the page, his eyes scanning the certified legal text before his face paled visibly.
"Clause 14B," Julian read, his voice wavering over the quiet room. "In the event that the designated managing proxy of Grand Horizon Corporation engages in documented acts of moral turpitude, intentional financial misappropriation exceeding one million dollars, or attempts to execute an involuntary conservatorship against the primary heir, all executive authority, voting stock, and proprietary asset control immediately and irrevocably revert to Vivian Vance-Albright or her designated successor."
Christopher stumbled backward, his hand catching the edge of a chair to keep from collapsing. "That... that clause was nullified twenty years ago!"
"It was reactivated forty-eight hours ago," Luke countered. "The moment Brenda signed the lease for the Grand Cayman holding company using your forged corporate seal. You didn't even read the operating agreement Dad, did you? You just signed whatever Brenda put in front of you because she told you that you were a genius."
A sudden sound broke the tension: the firm, heavy boots of federal agents entering through the back doors. Four men in dark suits, badges hanging from their necks, strode purposefully down the aisle.
The lead agent, a tall man with graying hair and an FBI field credentials wallet open in his palm, stopped directly beside Brenda.
"Brenda Vance?" the agent asked.
Brenda collapsed back into her chair, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with ragged sobs. She couldn't speak; she could only nod weakly.
"You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit aggravated assault via chemical administration," the agent recited calmly, snapping a pair of cold steel handcuffs over her wrists. The sound of the ratchets clicking echoed like gunfire across the ballroom.
Brenda looked up through swollen, mascara-streaked eyes, staring at Christopher. "Christopher! Do something! Call your lawyers! You promised me! You said you owned everything! You said she was nothing without you!"
Christopher backed away from her as if she were carrying the plague. "I didn't know anything about this," he stammered, looking at the agents, his voice cracked and pathetic. "She acted alone! She deceived me! I was a victim of her manipulation!"
Brenda let out a ragged, hysterical laugh. "You coward! You pathetic coward! You gave me the account numbers! You told me she was too stupid to ever check the balances!"
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The agents didn't wait for the argument to continue. They pulled Brenda to her feet, her stolen champagne dress dragging across the floor, and marched her down the aisle toward the flashing red-and-blue lights waiting outside the Beverly Hilton.
Christopher stood alone in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by three hundred people who were already looking through him as if he were made of cheap glass.
