Chapter 9 - The Boardroom Showdown
Grant slammed his fists furiously against the hood of our damaged SUV.
“You are not selling my house, you crazy b*tch!” he screamed, his polished Miami facade completely shattered.
Nora locked the car doors instantly, but we knew we could not hide in the garage forever.
We had exactly fifteen minutes to reach the boardroom on the fiftieth floor before Marcus Sterling canceled the deal.
“I will distract him, you two take the baby and run to the elevators,” Nora ordered, unbuckling her seatbelt.
Before we could argue, Nora threw her door open and shoved Grant hard against his own luxury car.
Rachel and I grabbed Ava’s carrier and sprinted across the concrete garage toward the glowing elevator bank.
We hit the express button and shot upward, leaving the chaotic sounds of the struggle far below us.
We burst into the massive glass boardroom exactly at 10:00 AM, completely out of breath.
Marcus Sterling was sitting at the head of a long mahogany table, surrounded by a dozen expensive lawyers.
I slammed the sleek black folder onto the table and pulled out the original, raised-seal physical deed.
“The property is entirely yours, Marcus, just initiate the wire transfer immediately,” I demanded, ignoring the pain in my stomach.
Marcus examined the document carefully, nodding to his lead attorney to prepare the final digital signatures.
Just as I picked up the pen, the heavy glass doors of the boardroom crashed violently open.
Grant stormed into the room, bleeding from a scratch on his cheek, with a bruised Nora right behind him.
“Do not sign that paper, Marcus, this woman is legally insane and trying to steal my assets!” Grant shouted desperately.
Grant threw his forged, poorly copied deed onto the pristine mahogany table.
“I am the legal owner of the estate, and I absolutely forbid this fraudulent transaction,” he declared arrogantly.
Marcus Sterling leaned back in his leather chair, looking at Grant with profound, utter disgust.
“My private investigators looked into your notary, Arthur Vance, early this morning,” Marcus said coldly.
“Vance confessed to forging the document for fifty thousand dollars after my security team politely threatened him.”
Grant’s face drained of all color as he realized his grand, evil master plan was entirely falling apart.
He looked at me, realizing he was about to lose the money, the house, and his freedom in one single moment.
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Driven by pure desperation and blinding rage, Grant lunged across the boardroom table directly toward me.
He pulled a heavy, sharp silver letter opener from a desk organizer, aiming it violently at my chest.
