Chapter 5 - The Resurrection in the Boardroom
At 08:25 a.m., the seventy-fifth floor of Vale International Tower was a hive of frantic executive activity.
The grand boardroom featured floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the morning skyline of Chicago. Twenty-four board members—men and women who controlled pension funds, sovereign wealth accounts, and global shipping lines—sat around a fifty-foot mahogany table, looking anxious and tired.
At the head of the table sat Lucien Vale, wearing a fresh charcoal suit, a gold signet ring on his finger. Beside him sat Helena March, sipping a cappuccino, her black veil pulled back to reveal an expression of cold victory.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lucien said, tapping his gold pen against his water glass to bring the room to order. "We have twenty-three minutes before the New York Stock Exchange opens. We must vote on the emergency motion to transfer Cassian’s voting shares to my office. The death certificate has been filed with the state registry, and—"
BOOM.
The heavy double oak doors of the boardroom didn't just open. They burst inward with a deafening crack that shattered the latches, slamming violently against the marble walls.
The entire boardroom jumped in terror. Two board members spilled their coffee; three women shrieked.
Four private security guards hired by Lucien rushed toward the entrance, reaching for their weapons.
Before they could draw, Vance stepped through the doorway, moving with lightning speed. He disarmed the first guard with a violent wrist lock, drove his elbow into the second guard's chest, and threw both men to the floor before the remaining two guards could even unholster their sidearms.
The room went dead, terrifyingly silent.
Through the clearing dust in the doorway stepped Cassian Vale.
He was immaculate. His dark charcoal suit was tailored to perfection, his black hair combed back, his gray eyes cutting through the air like two surgical blades.
Beside him walked Nora Reyes, dressed in a sleek, elegant dark blue business suit Cassian had bought for her five hours ago, holding her head high with quiet, undeniable dignity. And holding Nora’s hand was three-year-old Maisie, wearing a brand-new yellow dress, clutching Barnaby the teddy bear in her arm.
Helena’s cappuccino glass slipped from her hand, shattering against the mahogany table, hot coffee spilling across her white skirt. She backed up so fast her executive leather chair flipped over backward.
"C... Cassian?" Helena choked out, her face turning the color of chalk. "No... no, it's impossible! You're dead! You died at midnight!"
Lucien’s eyes were bulging out of his head. He gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as if he were looking at a ghost returned from the depths of hell.
"You look disappointed, Lucien," Cassian said, his deep voice carrying smoothly through the vast boardroom, entirely devoid of emotion. "Did my death certificate not clear the probate court fast enough for you?"
"This... this is an outrage!" Lucien stammered, trying desperately to regain his footing as he looked at the terrified board members. "He's an impostor! This man is a body double hired by rival firms to disrupt the stock opening! Guards, shoot him!"
None of the guards moved. They were looking at Vance, who was holding an automatic shotgun casually at his side, and then at Cassian, whose identity was undeniably absolute.
Cassian walked slowly down the center of the boardroom table, his leather shoes clicking softly against the floorboards. He stopped right behind Lucien’s seat.
Cassian reached down, grabbed Lucien by the collar of his expensive navy suit, and hoisted his half-brother out of the CEO chair like a sack of light garbage, tossing him violently onto the floor beside Helena.
Cassian sat down in the chief executive chair at the head of the table.
He placed a sleek silver flash drive on the mahogany surface, sliding it toward the head of the board’s legal ethics committee.
"On that drive," Cassian stated smoothly, "you will find the digital recordings from the hospital VIP suite, the toxicology report identifying T-42 cardioplegic suppressants in my bloodstream, the wire transfers from Macau cartels into Lucien’s Swiss accounts, and the signed confession from the night doctor who accepted half a million dollars to sign my death certificate."
The head of the legal committee plugged the drive into his laptop. Within five seconds, the massive projection screen at the front of the boardroom displayed the crystal-clear security audio and medical logs.
The board members gasped in sheer horror, turning their eyes toward Lucien and Helena with disgust and fury.
Sirens began to wail on the street seventy-five floors below.
The boardroom doors opened once more. Six federal agents from the Securities and Exchange Commission, flanked by ten uniformed Chicago police officers, walked into the room, their handcuffs drawn.
"Lucien Vale," the lead federal agent announced loudly. "Helena March. You are under arrest for attempted murder, corporate fraud, insider trading, and conspiracy to commit murder."
Helena began to scream, kicking and scratching as the officers pinned her arms behind her back, snapping the cold steel cuffs onto her wrists. Her thirty-carat diamond ring caught the fluorescent light one last time before she was dragged out of the room, sobbing hysterically.
Lucien didn't fight. He lay on the floor, staring up at his brother with broken, pathetic eyes as the officers pulled him to his feet.
"Cassian... please," Lucien wept. "We're blood... please..."
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Cassian didn't even look at him. He adjusted his silk cuffs, staring straight ahead at his board of directors.
"Take them away," Cassian commanded softly.
