The silence shattered.
“Forty million?” someone shouted.
“That’s federal prison time,” a man barked from the front row.
“My stock!” a woman cried.
The Vaughn empire collapsed in real time. In a single instant, the dynasty stopped looking like a dynasty. It looked like what it had really become—a Ponzi scheme operated by a narcissist to cushion a spoiled addict from consequence.
Vernon closed the folder with a soft, lethal thud.
“Therefore,” he said, “pursuant to the instructions of Otis Vaughn, the position of trustee and the controlling fifty-one percent interest transfer immediately to the reserve beneficiary.”
He turned and gestured to me.
“Captain Elena Vaughn.”
I stood there soaked in champagne, hair disordered, uniform stained, smelling faintly of alcohol and sweat.
I had never felt taller in my life.
“As majority shareholder,” Vernon continued, “Captain Vaughn now holds absolute veto power over all executive decisions, effective immediately.”
I looked at Calvin.
The tyrant who had wished me dead was gone. In his place sat a trembling old man slumping into a chair, his own greed finally devouring him. Malik had fallen to his knees, trying to gather the shards of the broken bottle with clumsy, shaking hands.
The prince had fallen.
I stepped back to the microphone. The room went quiet at once. They were not looking at the family outcast anymore.
They were looking at the boss.
“The party is over,” I said.
My voice was calm now. I didn’t need rage anymore.
“And the reign of greed is over. Beginning tomorrow morning, Vaughn Holdings will undergo a full federal audit. Every dollar stolen from the pension fund will be returned, even if I have to liquidate this entire estate to do it.”
Then I turned to the security team.
“Escort the former CEO and his son off my property.”
Calvin lurched to his feet and pointed a shaking finger at the men in black suits. “Arrest her! I pay your salaries. I pay for your protection. Throw her and that old lawyer out into the street.”
