Chapter 5
Chapter 5
He began treating me as an inconvenient relic of his humble beginnings, a decorative socialite who needed to be kept in the shadows while he paraded through high society with secretaries.
The night wore on quietly as our legal teams worked through dozens of cross-border filings, preparing the ironclad trap that would spring shut the moment the morning sun illuminated the city.
Down in the modest airport hotel where Aaron spent the sleepless night pacing across a cramped room, his world was shrinking with every passing hour as his desperate calls went unanswered.
Every prominent corporate attorney he contacted throughout the frantic night refused to take his case the moment they heard the name Vance attached to the emergency federal injunctions.
His prestigious board members turned off their phones, his private banking managers blocked his personal lines, and the venture capital titans who once praised him suddenly treated him like poison.
By six o'clock in the morning, the financial news networks broke the story across global tickers: Prescott Technologies faced massive leadership restructuring amid allegations of intellectual property reclamation and severe accounting breaches.
At seven-thirty, a modest commercial taxi dropped Aaron off at the perimeter gate of his own corporate headquarters, his expensive suit wrinkled and his bloodshot eyes burning with frantic exhaustion.
Jasmine and Evelyn followed closely behind him, their former glamour completely washed away by the sleepless night, replaced by hollow, terrified expressions as paparazzi cameras flashed relentlessly from the sidewalks.
"Mr. Prescott! Is it true the Vance Trust has revoked all operational licenses?" reporters shouted, shoving microphones past the perimeter security lines as the trio scrambled toward the glass revolving doors.
"Get out of my way!" Aaron barked frantically, shoving past the photographers with his head down, desperately trying to maintain the illusion of control as he reached the security turnstiles.
Inside the gleaming lobby, Aaron swiped his executive black card across the primary scanner, only for the machine to flash a sharp crimson warning accompanied by an error tone.
"Access Denied: Revoked Credential," the automated terminal chimed loudly across the quiet atrium, causing several early-shift employees and private security guards to turn their heads and stare in astonishment.
The chief of corporate security stepped forward from behind the marble reception counter, his posture rigid and uncompromising as he blocked Aaron’s path toward the executive express elevators.
"Mr. Prescott, your personal access to this facility has been suspended by order of the supervisory committee," the officer stated evenly, keeping his hands formally behind his back.
"Are you insane, Williams?" Aaron yelled, his face turning bright crimson with rage. "I built this entire company! I sign your paychecks! Let me through to the boardroom immediately!"
"Actually, Aaron, your signatures have been legally invalid since midnight," a cool, composed voice resonated from the grand curved staircase leading down from the executive conference level.
Aaron whipped around, his jaw dropping as I descended the stairs dressed in a tailored midnight-blue power suit, flanked by our family’s legal advisors and the entire executive board of directors.
Marcus stood directly behind me, carrying the master leather binder containing the comprehensive forensic audit, refusing to spare even a single glance toward his former executive superior.
Behind Aaron, his mother Evelyn let out a strangled gasp, clutching the lobby security barrier for support as she realized the true balance of power had shifted completely into my hands.
"Alyssa..." Aaron whispered, his voice cracking as he looked at the board members who had once bowed to his every whim, now standing silently and respectfully behind me.
"Good morning, Mr. Prescott," I said calmly, pausing on the final step to look down at him with the detached curiosity one might grant an unruly stranger trespassing on private grounds.
"What is the meaning of this charade, Alyssa?" Aaron demanded, attempting to project his former corporate authority despite his wrinkled clothes and trembling hands. "You have no right to lock me out!"
"Under Section Fourteen of our master incorporation agreement, any executive officer found misusing corporate capital for unapproved personal off-balance-sheet vehicles is subject to immediate summary suspension," Eleanor stated crisply from my side.
Eleanor stepped forward and opened a heavy folder, displaying dozens of signed wire transfers and covert shell-company registrations bearing Aaron’s distinctive personal signature alongside Jasmine’s private routing numbers.
"Fourteen million dollars transferred to Caribbean real estate trusts in Miss Jasmine Vance’s name," Eleanor read out, her sharp voice echoing clearly throughout the entire marble lobby for everyone to hear.
The surrounding security guards and lobby staff gasped quietly, while Jasmine buried her face in her trembling hands, weeping softly against the polished glass wall of the visitor checkpoint.
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"Aaron, you told me that was our secret future fund!" Jasmine sobbed hysterically, completely disregarding the public audience as she realized she was being dragged into a criminal fraud investigation.
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