Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Eviction
By 11:45 AM, the glass-and-steel boardroom of Monroe Holdings looked like a funeral wake.
Richard Monroe sat surrounded by his legal team, all of them sweating through their bespoke suits. Celeste stood by the window, her arms crossed, her face flushed with a mixture of rage and terror. She still couldn't comprehend that the quiet, polite billionaire she had treated like a prize pony was currently holding the executioner’s axe.
The double doors opened. I walked in alone. No lawyers, no security. Just me, dressed in a sharp black suit, carrying a single manila folder.
"Adrian!" Celeste yelled, stepping toward me, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble. "You are ruining my life! Do you have any idea what people are saying on social media? The rumors are everywhere! You need to fix this right now!"
I didn't look at her. I walked past her as if she were made of glass, tossing the folder onto the center of the table.
"Richard," I said, nodding to her father. "It’s noon."
Richard looked at his chief attorney, who opened the folder. The lawyer’s face instantly went white. He looked up at Richard, slowly shaking his head. "It's over, sir. He owns the debt, the land under this building, and forty percent of our voting shares. He has the legal right to force immediate restructuring."
"Restructuring?" Richard gasped, clutching his chest. "Adrian, please. We are old money. Our family built the foundations of this city's elite society!"
"You built it on the backs of people from my neighborhood, charging exorbitant rents for rat-infested apartments," I replied, leaning over the table, placing both hands flat on the polished wood. "Your grandfather owned the laundromat my mother slept above. He raised the rent every winter just because he could. History has a funny way of spinning around, doesn't it?"
Celeste marched up to me, her eyes wild. "You think you're so smart? If you ruin us, I’ll take this to the press! I'll tell everyone you're a abusive, controlling thug who uses financial violence to punish his fiancée! Your reputation will be trash!"
I finally looked at her. I let out a soft, genuine laugh that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Go ahead, Celeste," I said, pulling out a small flash drive from my pocket and setting it on the table. "Inside this drive is the high-definition security footage from the Grand Regent Hotel's ballroom. It clearly shows you looking around, confirming people are watching, and then intentionally shoving an elderly woman into a marble fountain before mocking her clothes."
Celeste’s mouth fell open.
"I also took the liberty of sending a copy to Vogue, the Daily Mail, and every major social media influencer in the city," I continued smoothly. "If you check your phone right now, you'll see you've already been dropped by your modeling agency, and your 'rich friends' from last night have already untagged you from every single photo."
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Celeste fell back into a chair, her phone buzzing violently in her hand with a barrage of hate comments and cancellation notifications. The high-society queen had been dethroned in less than twelve hours.
"Now, Richard," I turned back to her father. "Sign over the remaining assets of Monroe Holdings to Vance Global, or I file for your personal bankruptcy by 12:01 PM."
