Chapter 4 - Scorched EarthMonday morning arrived with crisp, blue skies, a stark contrast to the storm that was currently ripping through the Whitmore legacy.
I walked into the glass-walled boardroom of the Whitmore Foundation headquarters wearing a tailored white suit. I looked rested, radiant, and entirely in control. The room was packed with the twelve members of the Board of Directors, all older, wealthy individuals who had spent years kissing Eleanor’s ring. Today, they looked terrified.
Eleanor was already there, sitting at the far end of the mahogany table. She looked haggard. Grant sat beside her, staring blankly at the legal pad in front of him. They had brought a cheap, sleazy-looking defense attorney—the only one they could afford with their accounts frozen.
“Let’s call this emergency meeting to order,” I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. “I assume you have all reviewed the binders placed in front of you.”
Mr. Sterling, an old banking tycoon, cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Amelia… these documents. The forged signature, the fake medical records, the offshore accounts… is this all verified?”
“Verified by the clinic, the bank, and sworn testimony from Chloe Bennett, who is currently out on bail and cooperating with the district attorney,” I stated clearly, letting the words hang in the air.
Eleanor slammed her hands on the table. “This is a setup! She fabricated this entire thing because Grant asked for a divorce! She is a bitter, scorned woman trying to steal my family’s foundation!”
I didn't even look at her. I pressed a button on a remote, and the large screen behind me flickered to life. It played the high-definition security footage from my kitchen.
The board watched in dead silence as Eleanor’s voice filled the room: “There was no baby… The Whitmore estate is completely leveraged… I needed two point five million to pay off the offshore creditors.”
The color drained from every face at the table. Mr. Sterling looked at Eleanor with absolute disgust. “My god, Eleanor. You used foundation money to cover your personal debts? You faked a pregnancy?”
“It’s a deep fake!” Eleanor screamed, her voice shrill. “It’s AI! She made it on a computer!”
“The FBI cybercrime division is currently authenticating the raw file, Eleanor,” I replied smoothly. “They raided your estate at 6:00 AM this morning. I imagine they are boxing up your hard drives as we speak.”
Grant finally snapped. He stood up, knocking his heavy leather chair backward. “I’m done! I’m not going to prison for you, Mom!” He looked at the board members, tears streaming down his face. “She made me do it! She told me if I didn't go along with the Chloe plan, we’d be living on the streets. I didn't know about the wire fraud until Friday! I'll testify! I'll tell the cops everything!”
“Shut up, you fool!” Eleanor shrieked, lunging across the table to grab his arm.
“Security,” I said calmly into the intercom.
Within seconds, four burly security guards entered the boardroom. “Mr. Whitmore and Mrs. Whitmore are no longer authorized to be on the premises,” I instructed. “Please escort them out. If they resist, call the police.”
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As they dragged Eleanor out, she screamed curses at me, her wealthy-socialite facade entirely destroyed. Grant went quietly, looking back at me one last time, mouthing the word "sorry."
I didn't blink. I turned back to the shocked board members. “Now, gentlemen. Let’s discuss restructuring. I believe we have a lot of good work to do, and a lot of toxic assets to liquidate.”
