Chapter 5 - The Gathering of the Wolves
At eight-forty-five that morning, the boardroom on the fiftieth floor of Drayton Tower was already operating at maximum capacity.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed an overcast view of Central Park, where grey storm clouds hung low over the reservoir.
The room smelled of fresh dark roast coffee, hot printer toner, and absolute authority.
Twelve senior partners from Drayton Legal, forensic accountants from Price & Harding, and seven private wealth trustees sat around the massive oval glass table.
At the center of the table, sitting in the high-backed leather chair once occupied by my grandfather, was me.
The bruise on my left cheek had been lightly dressed with concealer, but I had refused to allow the makeup artist to hide it completely.
I wanted every partner in this room to see exactly what Jerome and his assistant had thought they could get away with.
Cornelius Hail sat to my immediate right, a stack of freshly bound audit binders resting before him.
To my left sat Marcus Wright, reviewing the filed temporary restraining order on his tablet.
"The process servers located Jerome at the St. Regis forty minutes ago," Marcus reported to the room.
"He was served with the personal protection order, the eviction notice from the Fifth Avenue property, and the emergency shareholder notice."
"Did he attempt to accept service for Northgate?" I asked.
"He tried," Marcus replied with a grim smile.
"He claimed he was still the operating chairman."
"Our team informed him that by virtue of Default Clause Fourteen in the Drayton Senior Credit Agreement, his voting rights were automatically suspended upon the filing of an un-cured material breach."
Cornelius cleared his throat, adjusting his reading glasses.
"The market opened ten minutes ago," Cornelius said, tapping the edge of his paper.
"Northgate's stock opened down twenty-eight percent on rumors of the syndicate collapse."
"Trading was briefly halted by the exchange when Blackwood Capital filed their mandatory disclosure that they had withdrawn their commitment letter."
The door to the boardroom opened quietly.
My executive assistant, Elena, stepped inside, looking slightly anxious.
"Mrs. Chase?" Elena said, keeping her voice low.
"Jerome is downstairs in the main lobby."
"He pushed past security at the turnstiles and is demanding access to the private elevators."
"He brought Northgate’s general counsel, Brian Harris, with him."
The partners around the table turned to look at me, waiting for my signal.
Jerome had always bullied his way into rooms where he wasn't wanted.
He believed that if he made enough noise, created enough public scene, and flashed his charismatic grin, people would eventually concede to avoid embarrassment.
He had operated that way for two decades because my silence had provided him with a safety net.
That net had been shredded.
"Elena," I said calmly, resting my hands flat on the glass table.
"Instruct building security to allow Mr. Chase and Mr. Harris up to this floor."
Marcus looked at me with concern.
"Leona, you have an active protective order."
"If he steps into this room, he is in direct violation of a court mandate."
"I know the law, Marcus," I replied evenly.
"Let him come up."
"Let him bring Northgate’s chief counsel."
"I want Brian Harris to sit in that chair and witness the forensic evidence before Jerome can spin another lie."
"I want the entire legal apparatus of Northgate to understand that the ship is sinking, and the captain has been stealing the lifeboats."
Three minutes later, the heavy frosted glass doors of the boardroom swung open.
Jerome strode into the room, his coat open, his face flushed with adrenaline and fury.
Brian Harris followed two steps behind him, clutching a leather briefcase, his face pale and sweating profusely.
"Leona!" Jerome shouted, ignoring the twelve corporate lawyers staring directly at him.
"This is an illegal takeover!"
"You cannot freeze my personal assets without a full board resolution!"
"You cannot lock me out of my corporate accounts!"
I did not flinch.
I did not stand up.
I simply gestured to the two empty chairs at the far end of the oval table, twenty feet away from where I sat.
"Sit down, Jerome," I said softly.
May you like
"Before you say another word that adds five years to your federal sentence."
Jerome paused, his chest heaving, his eyes scanning the binders bearing the official stamp of Price & Harding Forensic Accounting.
