Chapter 6 - THE BOARDROOM ENTRANCE AND THE FINAL RECKONING
Two days later,
the storm outside matched the fury inside the Crawford corporate headquarters on Michigan Avenue.
The executive boardroom on the 50th floor was packed with nervous shareholders and anxious directors.
The mahogany double doors swung open,
and I walked in wearing a tailored white Chanel maternity dress, my eight-month belly prominent, my head held high.
Behind me walked Eleanor Crawford,
flanked by Marcus Vance and a team of top-tier legal advisors.
At the far end of the long conference table sat Richard Sterling,
looking ten years older,
his hair disheveled, his expensive suit wrinkled, his eyes hollow and bloodshot from sleepless terror.
Claire,
Richard shrieked,
jumping up from his chair so violently that it crashed backward onto the carpet,
you have to stop this,
your lawyers have frozen every penny I own,
they seized my cars,
they locked me out of my office,
I am ruined.
The entire board stared at him in stunned silence,
not a single person moving to help him.
I walked slowly to the head of the board table,
where the ornate leather chair reserved for the Chief Executive Officer stood,
and I gently sat down, resting my hands on my bump.
Ruined, Richard,
I asked,
my voice echoing clearly across the expansive room,
that's a strong word.
When you threw my suitcase across the lobby of the Grand Belmont,
did you think about ruin,
and when you canceled my medical cards and left me stranded with no money,
did you think about ruin.
Richard stammered,
sweating profusely,
that was just a business negotiation tactic, you were being difficult.
I was pregnant, Richard,
I replied coldly,
leaning forward,
and you tried to crush me because you thought I had no one to protect me.
Well, you were right about one thing,
May you like
I didn't have anyone until my family found me,
and now your entire existence belongs to us.
