Chapter 6 - The Ashford Boardroom
Thursday morning dawned crisp and clear over Manhattan.
Richard Vance stood before the full-length mirror in the executive washroom of Sterling Tower, adjusting his thousand-dollar silk tie. Vanessa stood behind him, smoothing the shoulders of his bespoke blazer.
“You look like royalty, Richard,” she whispered, adjusting her own revealing designer dress. “When this contract is signed, we’re renting a penthouse in Tribeca.”
“Penthouse? We’re buying one,” Richard boasted, checking his gold Rolex. “Let’s go show these Wall Street blue-bloods how real business gets done.”
They were escorted down a long, marble-lined corridor by two security guards whose expressions were as unreadable as granite. The heavy double doors of the Ashford Boardroom swung open, revealing a sweeping, thirty-foot mahogany table surrounded by twelve senior partners and forensic accountants.
At the head of the table sat Julian Sterling, looking regal and formidable in an all-black three-piece suit.
“Mr. Sterling!” Richard beamed, striding forward with his right hand extended. “It’s an honor. My team and I have brought the updated projections for our regional freight expansion—”
Julian didn't stand up. He didn't take Richard’s hand. He simply gestured to the two empty chairs at the far end of the long table.
“Take a seat, Mr. Vance. We have a few matters to review before we discuss valuation.”
Richard’s hand hung in the air for an awkward second before he awkwardly tucked it into his pocket and pulled out a chair. Vanessa sat beside him, nervously adjusting her skirt as she noticed the cold, unblinking stares of the attorneys flanking the room.
“Before we proceed with the signing,” Julian announced, his voice echoing in the vast room, “the governing board requires the approval of our principal shareholder and newly appointed chairwoman of Ashford Continental Holdings.”
Richard frowned, glancing at Vanessa. “Ashford Continental? I thought we were dealing with Sterling Capital.”
“Sterling Capital is an asset-management arm of the Ashford Trust,” an attorney on the left interjected crisply. “As of forty-eight hours ago, the trust was formally reclaimed by its rightful heir.”
The heavy frosted-glass side door clicked open.
Footsteps clicked against the polished wood floor. A woman stepped into the room, flanked by two armed executive security officers.
She wore an impeccably tailored emerald-green silk blouse, high-waisted cream trousers, and diamond stud earrings. Her hair was swept up in an elegant, modern French twist, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and cool, luminous green eyes. On her right lapel was pinned a platinum brooch shaped like an orchid.
Richard’s heart slammed into his throat. His breath caught, his voice cracking like cheap wood.
“Maya...?”
Vanessa gasped, her eyes bulging. “What the hell is this? Richard, what is your wife doing here? Did she get a job as a temp?”
Maya didn't even look at Vanessa. She walked with effortless grace straight to the head of the boardroom table, taking the high-backed leather throne directly beside Julian Sterling.
Julian stood up immediately, bowed his head slightly in deference, and pulled her chair out for her.
Maya sat down, clasped her hands together on the polished surface, and met her husband’s terrified, bewildered stare.
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“Good morning, Richard,” Maya said softly. “I believe you were about to explain why we should invest ten million dollars into your failing company.”
***
