Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Slaughter
The silence in the boardroom was absolute. It was the kind of heavy, suffocating silence that occurs right after a bomb goes off, before the dust begins to settle.
Wyatt stared at me, his jaw literally dropping open. All the blood drained from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse in a tailored suit. He blinked rapidly, stepping backward until the back of his knees hit the leather chair.
“Clara?” he choked out, his voice a pathetic, high-pitched rasp. “What... what are you doing here? Are you an assistant for Aura Holdings?”
Savannah let out a cruel, mocking laugh, completely oblivious to the impending execution. “Oh, look who it is. The pathetic little incubator. What’s wrong, Clara? Did the five million run out? Are you fetching coffee for the executives now?”
I didn't blink. I didn't flinch. I slowly walked around the edge of the massive mahogany table until I was standing just a few feet away from them.
“I don't fetch coffee, Savannah,” I said, my voice smooth and lethal. “I own the building.”
Wyatt’s eyes darted frantically to David, then back to me. “What is she talking about? Where is the CEO?”
“You’re looking at her, Wyatt,” David interjected coldly, sliding a thick stack of legal documents across the table. “Clara Sterling is the sole founder, CEO, and majority shareholder of Sterling Innovations, the parent company of Aura Holdings. The woman you came to beg for a bailout is the very woman whose father’s technology you tried to steal.”
Wyatt physically stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the table. “Sterling Innovations? You? That’s impossible. You were a housewife! You didn't know anything about the energy sector!”
“I knew everything about the energy sector, Wyatt,” I corrected him, my eyes narrowing with pure, unfiltered disgust. “I built the foundational algorithms for my father’s drills before you even knew my name. You just refused to see me as anything other than collateral. When you banished me from Texas, you told me to take the kid and leave the state. You told me you would fund my lifestyle. I took your advice. And then I took your market share.”
I picked up a pen and tapped it against the acquisition contract.
“Over the last three years, Sterling Innovations has quietly purchased ninety percent of Kensington Oil’s mezzanine debt through blind trusts,” I explained, watching the absolute horror dawn on his face. “You don't owe the banks, Wyatt. You owe me. And as of midnight tonight, you are in default. I am not buying your company. I am foreclosing on it.”
Savannah shrieked, slamming her hands on the table. “Foreclosing?! You can't do that! Wyatt, do something! She’s stealing our money!”
“You don't have any money, Savannah,” I said, turning my gaze to her. “The designer bags, the yacht in St. Barts, the penthouses—they were all financed with toxic debt. You bled this idiot dry, and now the well is empty. You are legally bankrupt.”
Wyatt fell into his chair, burying his face in his trembling hands. The billionaire playboy was completely, utterly broken. “Clara, please,” he sobbed, his voice muffled by his hands. “Please don't do this. My grandfather’s legacy... it’s all I have. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you a seat on the board. I’ll make you a partner.”
“I don't want a seat at your rotting table, Wyatt,” I whispered, leaning down so he was forced to look at me. “I built my own. And you are not invited.”
“You vindictive bitch!” Savannah screamed, grabbing her Birkin bag and preparing to hurl it at me.
Before she could even raise her arm, the boardroom doors opened. Two massive, armed security guards stepped into the room.
“Escort Ms. Vance out of my building,” I ordered calmly. “And if she resists, call the Chicago police.”
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Savannah panicked as the guards grabbed her arms. She looked back at Wyatt, her face contorted in vicious rage. “You promised me a billionaire lifestyle, you useless fraud! Have fun in bankruptcy court. My lawyer will be contacting you in the morning!”
She was dragged out of the room, screaming obscenities, abandoning the man she supposedly loved the exact second his wallet ran dry. Wyatt sat completely alone, trembling in his chair, surrounded by the wreckage of his own arrogant choices.
