Chapter 6 - Boardroom Tremors
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed instantly. He tapped the intercom. "David. Who authorized those vehicles on the estate?"
"Sir," the driver replied, his voice tense. "That's your uncle's detail. Victor Vance. He arrived twenty minutes ago with three members of the global executive board."
Iris sat up straighter, pulling Nicholas’s jacket tighter around herself. "Victor? He was supposed to be in Tokyo until next week."
"He heard about Seattle," Nicholas said, his jaw tightening into iron. "He thought I was incapacitated in a hospital room. He came here to demand an emergency interim succession."
Nicholas opened the door before the driver could come around with the umbrella. He stepped into the pouring rain and reached his hand out for Iris. She took it without hesitation. Standing beside him, barefoot, wearing his oversized navy blazer over torn catering slacks, she looked not like a victim, but like a warrior queen returning from the frontlines.
They entered the marble foyer through the heavy oak doors.
Sitting in the grand reception room were four men in dark charcoal suits. At the center sat Victor Vance, sixty-two years old, silver-haired, holding an antique glass of scotch. Beside him sat two senior directors and Arthur Sterling—Bianca’s father—his face pale, his tie loosened, looking like a condemned man awaiting the guillotine.
When the front doors slammed shut, all four men turned.
Arthur Sterling jumped to his feet immediately, his face gray. "Nicholas! Nicholas, please! My daughter—she’s young, she’s foolish, she didn't know! You can't execute the margin call! It will destroy three generations of my family!"
Nicholas didn't even look at Arthur. His eyes were locked on his uncle.
"Victor," Nicholas said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, quiet frequency. "You brought an insolvent debtor into my home at eleven o'clock at night. Explain yourself before I have my security team throw all four of you off the cliff."
Victor Vance set his scotch down on the mahogany table with an unsteady clink. He looked at Iris, taking in her disheveled state, his lips curling into a sneer. "Nicholas, we received reports that you suffered a severe arrhythmia in Washington. And then, instead of resting, you flew across the continent to create an international public relations scandal over a... a catering girl."
"She is my wife," Nicholas said, each syllable heavy enough to crush bone.
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"She is a liability!" Victor snapped, standing up to meet his nephew's gaze. "Look at her! The media has already caught wind of it. The board cannot allow an erratic, lovesick CEO to liquidate eighty million dollars of Sterling credit over a domestic spat at a charity dinner! Arthur came to me for protection, and I granted it."
Iris stepped past Nicholas before he could speak. Her bare feet made no sound against the marble, but her presence commanded the room like an oncoming storm.
