Chapter 7 - The Master Stroke
Blake’s smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second as my laughter echoed in the tense boardroom.
He quickly recovered, demanding that the security guards seize me by force.
The two large guards stepped forward, reaching for my arms to drag me away from the table.
I casually pulled my cell phone from my pocket and tapped the screen once.
The video of the tortured mechanic on the projector screen suddenly vanished.
It was instantly replaced by a crystal-clear, high-definition security feed from the very basement Blake was using.
The new video showed the mechanic sitting untied at a table, drinking a cup of coffee and counting a massive stack of cash.
Blake stared at the screen, his mouth dropping open in total confusion.
I explained to the terrified board members that I had anticipated Blake’s violent desperation months ago.
I had hired a professional stuntman to play the role of the guilty mechanic in the diner.
The man Blake had kidnapped last night was actually an undercover private investigator wearing a hidden camera.
I pressed another button on my phone, playing the audio from the investigator's hidden microphone.
The entire boardroom listened in absolute silence as Blake’s voice filled the room.
On the recording, Blake clearly offered the investigator two million dollars to frame me for Rebecca's murder.
More importantly, Blake loudly bragged on the tape about how easy it had been to cut the brakes on Rebecca's car five years ago.
The board members gasped, and a woman at the end of the table covered her mouth in sheer horror.
My father collapsed heavily back into his leather chair, clutching his chest as he struggled to breathe.
Blake turned pale white, his eyes darting wildly toward the exit doors.
He realized his entire elaborate counter-trap had been secretly orchestrated by me from the very beginning.
I reached into the yellow folder and pulled out the final document.
It was a legally binding hostile takeover contract, pre-signed by every major shareholder except my father.
I had secretly bought out the loyalty of the entire board while Blake was busy playing corporate espionage.
I slid the contract across the table toward my hyperventilating brother.
I told him that he no longer owned a single share of the company his grandfather had built.
I demanded that he leave my boardroom before the federal agents downstairs lost their patience.
Blake screamed in absolute fury and lunged across the glass table to attack me.
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Before his hands could even reach my throat, the heavy mahogany doors burst open.
A dozen armed FBI agents rushed into the room with their weapons drawn.
