Chapter 12 - Cornered Beasts
The reaction inside the boardroom was catastrophic for Victoria's grand ambitions.
Two senior board members who had served alongside my father for thirty years immediately demanded her resignation from the advisory council.
Sensing her total loss of control, Victoria packed her briefcase with trembling hands and practically fled the room without saying a word.
Ten minutes after the meeting adjourned with a unanimous vote to appoint me sole executive director, my personal phone rang.
The caller ID showed an unknown blocked number, but I didn't need a name to know who was on the other end.
I tapped the screen and put the call on speakerphone, holding it up between Marcus and Elena in the empty boardroom.
“You think you’ve won, don't you?” Julian’s voice slithered out of the speaker, distorted by poor cellular reception.
The background noise suggested he was in a moving vehicle, with the dull roar of highway traffic audible behind his words.
“You think because you got some accountants to look at a few spreadsheets that you can erase me from this family?”
“It’s over, Julian,” I said calmly, leaning back in my chair and looking out the window at the Boston skyline.
“Gary Miller confessed to the private investigators, and we have the tape of him admitting what you paid him to do to my brakes.”
I told him that the FBI was now hunting him for interstate wire fraud and attempted murder.
A long, suffocating silence hung over the line, broken only by the sound of Julian’s erratic breathing and the tires on asphalt.
When he finally spoke again, the arrogant sneer was completely gone, replaced by venomous desperation.
“You were supposed to die on that turnpike, Clara,” he whispered, his voice trembling with chilling, unrepentant rage.
“Dad spent his entire life grooming you and looking at me like I was just the spare part he didn't need.”
He screamed that even broke and sitting in a wheelchair, I still wouldn't let him lead the family legacy.
“I should have made sure the car burned when it went off the guardrail four years ago!” he yelled.
“Thank you for the confession, Julian,” I replied, my voice steady as steel.
May you like
“Marcus recorded every second of this call, and the federal marshals already have your cell phone cell-tower triangulation.”
I told him to drive safe before ending the call and dropping the phone onto the mahogany table.
