Chapter 6 - The Panic in the Boardroom
The emergency executive board meeting of Bennett Holdings was called at 6:30 a.m. in the ultra-modern glass-walled conference room on the fortieth floor of the Bennett Tower downtown.
The room was dead silent except for the frantic clicking of a ballpoint pen against a mahogany table.
Ethan sat at the head of the long table, his eyes bloodshot, his hair disheveled, and his expensive custom suit looking as though he had slept in it—which he had. Beside him sat his father, Julian, whose face was still pale from the previous night's confrontation in the penthouse.
Around the table sat six senior vice presidents, three corporate legal counsels, and the head of public relations, all of them staring nervously at printed copies of a legal notice that had been hand-delivered by a federal courier thirty minutes before sunrise.
“Explain this to me again,” Ethan demanded, his voice cracking with exhaustion and raw panic as he slammed his hand onto the table. “How the hell does my wife—my pregnant wife—own fifty-one percent of our primary commercial real estate trust?!”
General Counsel Howard Vance adjusted his glasses nervously, clearing his throat.
“Mr. Bennett... Ethan... it appears that over the last three years, various shell companies associated with the Sterling-Evans Trust systematically bought up our junior debt tranches during the commercial real estate slump,” Howard explained, sweat beading on his forehead. “When we restructured our loans last quarter, we unknowingly signed over voting rights on the Sterling Tower land lease to their primary trust.”
“Unknowingly?!” Ethan roared, standing up so fast his chair tipped backward and crashed onto the carpeted floor. “You’re our chief legal counsel! You approved those audits!”
“She hid the ultimate beneficiary identity behind three layers of international proxy accounts and nominee directors based in the British Virgin Islands,” Howard stammered, shrinking back in his chair. “It was... it was financial espionage of the highest order. Whoever structured this knew our corporate accounting practices better than we did.”
Julian raised his hand slowly, cutting off Ethan’s impending explosion.
The old man looked older this morning, his shoulders slightly stooped, the aura of invincibility he usually carried shattered beyond repair.
“Sit down, Ethan,” Julian commanded quietly.
Ethan picked up his chair, shoved it back into place, and sat down heavily, breathing hard through his nose. “Dad, what do we do? If she files for divorce today and executes her voting rights, she can freeze our corporate accounts, block the downtown expansion project, and sue for emergency asset division. The media will eat us alive!”
“She won't just sue us,” Julian said, his voice grim and low. “She’ll destroy us. Completely.”
Before Ethan could reply, the heavy mahogany doors of the conference room swung open without warning.
A young corporate intern stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, holding a portable tablet out toward Ethan with a shaking hand.
“Mr. Bennett... you need to look at this right now,” the intern whispered. “Twitter... financial news networks... it’s everywhere.”
Ethan snatched the tablet from the intern's hand.
Across the screen flashed breaking news banners from Bloomberg, CNBC, and the Chicago Tribune:
BREAKING: FEDERAL INVESTIGATORS RAID BENNETT HOLDINGS SUBSIDIARY OVER ALLEGED ZONING FRAUD AND ENVIRONMENTAL COVER-UPS.
Ethan stared at the screen, the blood draining entirely from his face.
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“No,” Ethan whispered, his hands shaking so violently the tablet slipped from his fingers and smashed against the floor. “No... she didn't.”
“Oh, she did,” Julian muttered, staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling window at the gray Chicago sky. “And we haven't even seen the worst of it yet.”
