Chapter 6 - Confrontation on the 40th Floor
The executive boardroom on the fortieth floor of the Wentworth Tower overlooked the entire downtown skyline.
When I stepped out of the private elevator at 11:15 a.m., the atmosphere was electric with tension. Two burly private security guards hired by Thorne stood outside the boardroom doors, wearing earpieces and dark suits.
"Mr. Wentworth," the taller guard said, stepping into my path with his hand outstretched. "Mrs. Wentworth has called an executive closed session. You are not on the guest list."
Before I could answer, Marcus Vance stepped up beside me, followed by two uniformed Oakwood police officers and a state compliance officer carrying a certified injunction.
"Step aside, son," Officer Miller barked, tapping his holster. "Unless you want to be booked for felony obstruction of justice under a state regulatory order."
The guards looked at each other, took one glance at the armed officers, and quickly backed away from the doors.
I pushed open the double frosted-glass doors of the boardroom.
The scene inside was pure desperation. Margaret sat at the head of the long mahogany conference table, wearing an emerald designer suit she had hastily changed into after posting bail. Her face was heavily powdered to hide the blotches of stress, but her hands shook as she clutched a gold pen.
Sitting to her right was Derek Thorne. He was fifty-five, with slicked-back silver hair, an arrogant smirk, and a bespoke Italian suit that cost more than a mid-sized sedan. Five minority board members—men who had served my father for years—sat around the table looking deeply uncomfortable, staring down at draft liquidation contracts.
"I don't care about the police report!" Margaret was snarling at the board as the doors opened. "Austin has suffered a nervous breakdown! He assaulted me and Carla in his home, and he’s using fabricated video to seize control! As the sixty-percent shareholder of Wentworth Enterprises, I demand an immediate vote to ratify the asset sale to Thorne Capital!"
"The vote is out of order, Margaret," I announced, my voice cutting through the room like a razor blade.
Every head snapped toward me.
Margaret’s face morphed from arrogant defiance to sheer terror. Derek Thorne remained seated, but his smirk vanished, his cold gray eyes narrowing as he took in the uniformed police officers flanking me and Marcus.
"Austin," Thorne said smoothly, leaning back in his leather chair. "You're making a scene in front of the board. Your mother is trying to save this company from insolvency. You have a twenty-two million dollar balloon note due to my fund in exactly forty minutes. If that payment isn't executed by noon, Canyon Ridge defaults, and I take ownership of the properties anyway. Why make this messy?"
"Because you aren't getting a single square inch of this company, Derek," I said, walking to the foot of the table and dropping the certified state injunction squarely in front of him.
Thorne picked up the document, his eyes scanning the official gold seal of the State Regulatory Commission.
"What is this nonsense?" Margaret shrieked, slamming her palms against the wood. "I am the majority owner! Richard left me this firm!"
Marcus Vance stepped forward, pulling a folder from his leather briefcase and tossing copies down the table toward the board members.
"Margaret Wentworth does not own sixty percent of Canyon Ridge Holdings," Marcus announced in a voice that carried the weight of four decades of legal authority. "She never did. The revised 2022 will she presented upon Richard's death was executed under false pretenses using forged notary certifications. The true master deed was held in perpetuity by Cedar House Capital LLC."
The board members gasped, frantically flipping through the transfer deeds.
"Cedar House?" whispered Arthur Jenkins, the oldest board member. "Richard talked about Cedar House before his stroke... he said it was his insurance policy."
"Cedar House owns seventy-two percent of this corporation," Marcus stated firmly. "And as of 9:15 this morning, Irene Wentworth transferred sole custodianship and voting rights to Austin Wentworth. Any contracts, loans, or liens entered into by Margaret Wentworth without Austin’s written authorization are null, void, and constitute federal bank fraud."
Margaret turned on Thorne, her voice pitching into a panicked screech. "Derek! Do something! You told me you had the state regulators paid off! You told me Carla wouldn't talk!"
Thorne slowly stood up, pushing his chair back. His demeanor had shifted completely from charming predator to ruthless mercenary. He didn't even look at Margaret.
"Carla is singing to the D.A. right now, Derek," I said, stepping closer to him. "She handed over your encrypted text messages. The ones where you promised her a two-million-dollar cut if she helped Margaret retrieve the master deeds from my safe. The ones where you told her to 'do whatever it takes to silence Irene.'"
Thorne’s jaw clenched. He reached for his leather briefcase, preparing to walk toward the exit. "This is a civil matter. My lawyers will handle this in federal court."
"It's not a civil matter anymore, Mr. Thorne," Detective Vance’s voice called out from the doorway.
Vance walked into the boardroom, holding a crisp white document with a red magistrate stamp. Behind him stood two federal marshals.
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"Derek Thorne, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit first-degree burglary, wire fraud, and interstate racketeering," Vance announced calmly. "Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
***
