Part 3: The Boardroom Eviction
Part 3: The Boardroom Eviction
The dining room became so quiet you could hear the water dripping from my hair onto the marble.
"You?" Diane scoffed, though her voice lacked its previous venom. "You're a struggling school teacher. Your father was a mechanic."
"My father was a brilliant engineer who patented the tracking software your entire empire uses to function," I replied.
I took a thin, waterproof tablet from my wet bag and slid it across the table, right through the middle of the flower centerpiece.
"He died before he could see how your family used a fraudulent licensing contract to strip him of his royalties," I added.
The tablet screen displayed a certified forensic audit completed at 9:00 a.m. that morning.
"I didn't marry you for your money, Grant," I said, looking at my stunned ex-husband. "I married you believing you had no part in what your parents did to my father. But then I found the Cayman account logs in your study."
Grant fell back into his plush chair, his face entirely pale under the chandelier lights.
"You used the stolen royalty funds to pay off your sister's designer credit lines," I said, pointing at Vanessa.
"And to buy the luxury cruise tickets your parents are taking next week."
The grand double doors of the dining hall burst open.
Two uniformed federal compliance officers stepped into the room, followed immediately by my private defense counsel, Marcus Bell.
May you like
Marcus carried a leather-bound portfolio bearing the state supreme court's master registry stamp.
"Richard and Grant Whitmore," Marcus announced, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You have been formally stripped of your executive authority by a supermajority vote of the board."
