Chapter 2 - The Corporate Guillotine
The next morning, I sat at the head of the massive mahogany table in the boardroom of Sterling Holdings. I wore a bespoke charcoal suit, sipping a black espresso. Outwardly, I was the picture of calm. Inwardly, I was orchestrating a war.
Chloe had left the estate in a frantic, weeping mess, but I knew women like her. She was a survivor. She would try to spin the narrative, painting me as an abusive, controlling monster who threw her out into the cold.
She didn't know I was already ten steps ahead.
My head of security, Marcus, a former intelligence officer, handed me an iPad. “The locks at the estate are changed, sir. Her biometric access to the penthouse, the Hamptons house, and the corporate jet have been revoked.”
“And the bank accounts?” I asked.
“The secondary Centurion card you gave her was frozen at 3:00 AM,” Marcus confirmed. “She tried to use it to book a suite at the Four Seasons thirty minutes ago. It declined.”
I nodded. I had given Chloe a vanity position within my company—Vice President of Philanthropic Relations—mostly to keep her busy and allow her to attend high-society luncheons on my dime.
I pressed a button on the intercom. “Send her in.”
The heavy oak doors swung open. Chloe marched in, flanked by two corporate security guards. She looked disheveled, wearing yesterday’s clothes. She had clearly spent the night in a cheap hotel, and the reality of her situation was making her desperate.
“Julian, this is illegal!” she hissed, slamming her hands on the boardroom table. “You can’t freeze my corporate accounts! I’m an executive of this company!”
I slid a heavy file across the table toward her.
“You were an executive, Chloe. As of 8:00 AM, you are terminated for gross misconduct and embezzlement.”
Her eyes went wide. “Embezzlement? You’re lying!”
“Page four,” I said calmly. “My forensic accountants spent the night auditing the Sterling Charity Foundation. You’ve been funneling donations into a shell company registered in Delaware to pay off your personal credit card debts. Over four hundred thousand dollars in the last six months.”
Chloe stumbled backward, her legs hitting one of the leather chairs. She fell into it, staring at the documents.
May you like
“If you go to the press with some sob story about our breakup,” I told her, my voice echoing in the silent room, “I will hand this file to the FBI. You will face federal wire fraud charges. Sign the termination papers, walk out of this building, and never speak my name again.”
She signed them with a shaking hand.
