Chapter 7 - The Boardroom
By nine the next morning, Roman had declared war in three different languages.
His lawyers filed an emergency petition claiming the Moretti control event was fraudulent.
His public relations team released a statement suggesting I was under emotional strain after a private marital dispute.
A gossip site published photographs of me getting into Dante's car outside the Drake.
Another site claimed Dante and I had been having an affair for months.
By ten, a television commentator I had met twice called me a manipulative heiress who had staged my own humiliation to seize my husband's company.
By eleven, Roman's lawyers asked a judge to freeze my personal assets for alleged breach of fiduciary duty.
Mara read the filing and smiled.
"What is funny?" I asked.
"He is scared."
"He looks organized."
"Scared billionaires have assistants."
Dante stood at the far end of the conference table on a call with his security chief.
Luca had disappeared before dawn.
He left a note on Mara's kitchen counter.
DO NOT TRUST MY MOTHER JUST BECAUSE SHE SOUNDS GUILTY.
Under it he had added,
SORRY ABOUT THE BLOOD ON THE SOFA.
No one knew where he went.
That bothered me more than his presence had.
Mara slid another document across the table.
"The trust requires you to authenticate in person before noon."
"Where?"
"Castellano Holdings headquarters."
I stared at her.
"Of course it does."
"Your father wanted public governance procedures."
"My father also apparently helped murder my great-grandmother."
Mara's expression tightened.
"We have Isabella's accusation, not proof."
"You believe her?"
"I believe every accusation deserves evidence."
Dante ended his call.
"The building is secure."
I looked at him.
"Whose version of secure?"
"Mine."
"That is not reassuring anymore."
He accepted the hit without reacting.
At eleven thirty, we entered Castellano Tower through the underground garage.
The lobby above us had thirty-foot marble walls, bronze elevators, and Roman's name on almost everything that did not move.
I had attended charity meetings there.
I had hosted holiday receptions there.
I had never once been invited to a board meeting.
That morning, six cameras waited outside the elevator.
Reporters shouted questions as soon as I stepped out.
"Mrs. Castellano, are you divorcing your husband?"
"Did you plan the ring transfer?"
"Are you involved with Dante Vale?"
"Did Mr. Castellano threaten you?"
I kept walking.
Then one reporter called,
"Evelyn, is it true your father stole the company from the Castellano family?"
I stopped.
Mara whispered,
"Do not."
Roman's people wanted me angry.
They wanted a clip.
I turned anyway.
"My father is dead."
The cameras leaned toward me.
"If anyone wants to accuse him of theft, they can start by explaining why his shares were hidden from his daughter for four years."
Then I walked away.
Mara caught up beside me.
"That was not in the plan."
"Neither was my marriage."
The boardroom occupied the forty-second floor.
Roman was already seated at the head of the table.
He had changed clothes.
Navy suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
His cuff was clean now.
Vanessa was not there.
Isabella sat to his right.
She wore black and pearls, exactly as she had in my old house.
She did not look at me.
Seven directors filled the remaining seats.
Three avoided my eyes.
Two looked frightened.
One looked delighted.
The last was Judge Stephen Lane.
Vanessa's father.
He had no official reason to be there.
I understood immediately that Roman wanted me to notice him.
Roman rose.
"My wife."
"Do not call me that in this room."
A director coughed into his hand.
Roman smiled.
"You are still legally my wife."
"That sounds like a problem for my attorney."
Mara sat beside me.
Dante remained near the door as a proxy holder.
Roman's eyes went to him.
"Vale."
"Roman."
"Still collecting things that do not belong to you?"
Dante answered calmly.
"Only debt."
Roman's jaw tightened.
The trust administrator appeared on a video screen.
He was an elderly man in New York named Arthur Bell.
He asked for identification.
I provided it.
He asked me to confirm my full legal name.
"Evelyn Maria Moretti Castellano."
Roman smiled faintly at the last name.
I continued.
"Pending legal restoration of Moretti as my sole surname."
His smile vanished.
Arthur Bell explained the control event in language so dry it made the destruction of an empire sound like a tax seminar.
The public transfer of the Castellano family ring to a declared replacement partner had terminated Roman's conditional proxy rights over the Moretti trust.
The trust's voting rights now returned to me.
Dante formally transferred his temporary proxy.
Two minority shareholders did the same remotely.
The screen updated.
EVELYN M. CASTELLANO - 51.8% TEMPORARY VOTING CONTROL.
No one breathed for a moment.
Roman looked at the number.
Then at me.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Do you know what to do with it?"
"My first instinct is to stop letting you use it."
One director looked down to hide a smile.
Roman folded his hands.
"Then make a motion."
I had expected resistance.
Not invitation.
Mara noticed too.
She leaned toward me.
"Careful."
Roman wanted me to act before I knew something.
"Before any motion," I said, "I want a full accounting of related-party transactions for the last five years."
Roman's eyes narrowed.
"That is not a board motion."
"It is a shareholder demand."
Mara slid the written demand across the table.
"Effective immediately."
Roman did not touch it.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
I looked at Judge Lane.
"Why is Vanessa's father here?"
Stephen Lane was in his sixties, silver-haired and pale.
He looked like a man who had not slept.
Roman answered for him.
"Judge Lane is an adviser."
"On what?"
"Family matters."
"His daughter is your mistress."
The room stiffened.
Lane closed his eyes.
Roman's smile remained.
"Vanessa is an adult."
"Where is she?"
"Safe."
The same word Luca had used.
I hated it now.
"Let me speak to her."
"No."
I looked at Lane.
"Do you know where your daughter is?"
His mouth opened.
Roman placed one hand on the table.
Lane stopped.
That told me everything.
"Judge Lane."
I spoke directly to him.
"If Roman is threatening Vanessa, blink twice."
A director inhaled sharply.
Roman's voice became cold.
"Enough."
Lane stared at me.
Then he blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Roman stood so quickly his chair rolled backward.
Dante moved from the wall.
Mara was already on her feet.
I did not move.
"There."
I looked around the table.
"That is my first motion."
Roman stared at me.
"Immediate independent investigation into coercion, threats, and misuse of company security resources by the chief executive."
Mara spoke.
"Seconded under proxy authority."
The directors shifted.
Roman laughed.
"You think a board vote will protect her?"
The room went silent.
He had said too much.
I leaned forward.
"Protect whom?"
Roman realized it too late.
Judge Lane began to shake.
"My daughter."
His voice broke.
Roman turned on him.
"Stephen."
Lane stood.
"You said she would be safe."
"Sit down."
"You promised me."
"Sit down."
Lane reached inside his jacket.
Security moved instantly.
But he was not holding a weapon.
He pulled out a small recorder and placed it on the table.
"I recorded him."
Roman's face emptied.
Lane looked at me.
"Four years ago."
His hand shook.
"The night your father died."
Roman moved around the table.
Dante stepped between them.
"Do not."
Roman stopped six feet away.
Lane pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Roman's younger voice.
"If Enzo goes to the authorities, Vanessa's school route becomes public information."
Lane's voice answered on the recording.
"She's seventeen."
Roman replied,
"Then you understand the urgency."
No one moved.
The recording continued.
Lane said,
"What are you asking me to do?"
Roman answered,
"Nothing complicated."
"When the car is found, you make sure the toxicology report says what it needs to say."
My vision narrowed.
I heard my own heartbeat.
Roman's face had gone completely still.
The recording ended.
I looked at him.
"You killed my father."
Roman did not deny it.
He looked at Judge Lane instead.
"You just killed your daughter."
May you like
Every phone in the room rang at once.
