Chapter 8 - THE BOARDROOM BROADCAST
At 9:00 AM the following morning, the forty-fifth floor of the Mercer Global Headquarters was in utter chaos.
The fifteen members of the board of directors sat around the forty-foot glass conference table. Papers were scattered across the surface, coffee cups were cold, and three separate news channels were muted on the giant wall-mounted screens, all showing red ticker banners:
MERCER GLOBAL STOCK PLUNGES 18% AMID RUMORS OF EXECUTIVE INVESTIGATION.
The heavy double doors swept open, and Marcus stepped into the room.
He looked hollowed out. His eyes were bloodshot, his suit was rumpled, and his necktie was loosened. He took his seat at the head of the table, resting his hands on the cool glass.
"Where is Isabella Vance?" the chief board member, Arthur Vance (Isabella's uncle), demanded, slamming his fist onto the table. "Marcus, the market is opening in thirty minutes! Rumors are circulating that our VP of Operations was dragged out of the hospital in handcuffs!"
"She wasn't dragged out in handcuffs, Arthur," Marcus said, his voice flat and lifeless. "She fled."
"Fled?!" Arthur shouted. "This is absurdity! You hit her in front of witnesses! You ruined our public standing over a domestic spat with your wife!"
"My wife was poisoned, Arthur," Marcus growled, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous fire. "Isabella tried to kill my child."
"Do you have proof?" Arthur sneered, leaning forward. "Or are you relying on the hysterical claims of a woman who has been trying to push my niece out of this firm since the day you married her?"
Before Marcus could answer, the giant wall screens in the boardroom flickered violently.
The news feeds vanished, replaced by a dark grey interface bearing a silver emblem: MORETTI SECURITY NETWORK.
"What is this?" Arthur demanded, reaching for the media remote on the table. "Who authorized this?"
The remote was useless.
The screens flashed white, and then the 4K video feed from Room 412 began to play.
The entire boardroom fell dead silent.
Fifteen billionaire executives watched in paralyzed horror as the video clearly showed Isabella Vance entering the room, pulling out the syringe, and injecting the clear toxin into Khloe’s IV bag. They watched her stand over Khloe’s thrashing body with a cold smirk.
And then came the moment that made Arthur Vance drop his pen:
The camera captured Isabella turning to the room’s side table, opening Khloe’s private leather handbag, and pulling out a flash drive labeled MERCER AUDIT 2026. Isabella slipped the drive into her jacket pocket before stepping onto Khloe’s body with her red heel.
"My God..." one of the female board members gasped, covering her mouth in terror.
The video paused, and a clear, high-resolution document popped up beside the video frame.
It was an audited bank ledger showing over forty-two million dollars systematically funneled out of Mercer Global’s primary development accounts over the past three years—signed, authorized, and moved by Isabella Vance and Arthur Vance.
Marcus slowly turned his head to look at Arthur.
Arthur’s face was ash-white, sweat pouring down his temples. "Marcus... listen to me... this is a fabrication... it’s a digital frame-job!"
"It’s not a frame-job, Arthur," a smooth voice called out from the doorway.
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Gabriel Moretti stepped into the boardroom, holding a black leather binder under his arm. Behind him walked two federal agents from the Securities and Exchange Commission, accompanied by three armed federal marshals.
"Arthur Vance," the lead agent announced, pulling a crisp warrant from his coat. "You are under arrest for grand corporate embezzlement, wire fraud, and conspiracy to commit murder."
