Chapter 13 - The Boardroom Ambush
The headquarters of Sterling Global occupied the top twenty floors of a glass monolith overlooking Midtown Manhattan.
Two days after the delivery, Alexander convened an emergency session of the executive board.
He insisted I accompany him as his personal advisor, determined to show the world that I stood beside him as an equal.
As we stepped into the mahogany-paneled boardroom, the heavy double doors clicked shut behind us.
Twelve board members sat around the oblong table, their faces pale and unreadable.
At the head of the table, sitting casually in Alexander’s designated leather high-back chair, was a man in his late fifties.
He wore an immaculate Italian silk suit, his silver hair slicked back, twirling an antique gold pen between his fingers.
Dominic Sterling looked up, flashing a venomous smile that chilled the room.
"Alexander, my boy," Dominic purred, gesturing lazily toward the empty chairs opposite him.
"You kept the board waiting."
"And you brought your little stray maid to a meeting of kings."
The board members shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with both Alexander and me.
Alexander didn't flinch; he stepped forward until he towered over his uncle.
"Get out of my seat, Dominic," Alexander said, his voice dropped an octave, radiating lethal intent.
"You surrendered your shares and your title twenty years ago when my father threw you out."
Dominic let out an amused chuckle and tapped the table with his golden pen.
"Your father was a hypocrite who died before he could clean up his own mess," Dominic replied smoothly.
"He signed over the waterfront rights of Astoria to Miguel Valenzuela to buy his silence about the original strike."
"Then he conveniently let Miguel perish in that tragic, smoky little accident."
The air was sucked straight out of my lungs.
"That’s a lie," I spoke up, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
"Julian Sterling never ordered that fire; we cleared his ledger."
Dominic turned his predatory gaze onto me, his gray eyes gleaming with mockery.
"Did you really, little girl?" Dominic mocked softly.
"Alexander showed you a sanitized ledger, created to ease your pathetic working-class conscience."
"Ask him why his father paid twenty million dollars into a blind trust twenty-four hours before Miguel died."
I looked instinctively at Alexander.
For a fraction of a second, his posture tightened, a flicker of hesitation passing through his dark eyes.
That tiny split second was all Dominic needed to drive the dagger home.
"He never told you, did he?" Dominic smiled, leaning back into the throne.
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"The Sterling throne doesn't rest on debts repaid, Sophia."
"It rests on bodies never recovered."
