Chapter 9 - The Walk of Shame
"Let's take the vote," Vivian commanded.
Raymond Sterling raised his hand. "All those in favor of immediately terminating
Adrian Cole from the office of Co-CEO, stripping him of all executive titles,
revoking his corporate credentials, and referring all audit findings to the
United States Attorney's Office for the Southern District of New York... signify
by saying aye."
"Aye," Gregory Vance said instantly.
"Aye," Bradley stated firmly.
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Aye."
Every single hand around the twenty-foot rosewood table went up.
Eight to zero. Unanimous.
Adrian stood frozen, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer against his ribs.
The world around him seemed to slow down into a nightmarish crawl. The power,
the prestige, the multi-billion-dollar empire he had spent seven years
attempting to usurp had vanished in less than ten minutes.
"The motion carries unanimously," Raymond announced, closing his pen with a
sharp, final click. "Mr. Cole, your employment with Cole & Vance
Developments—which has officially reverted its corporate name to Vance Global
Enterprises—is terminated effective immediately."
Vivian pressed a small black button on the conference intercom.
The heavy glass doors of Boardroom A swung open.
Four uniformed building security officers, accompanied by two armed private
contractors, stepped into the room.
"Security," Vivian said, without looking at Adrian. "Please escort Mr. Cole off
the premises."
"Vivian, wait!" Adrian cried, his composure completely disintegrating. He lunged
toward her end of the table, but the two security guards instantly grabbed his
arms, twisting them behind his back with practiced efficiency. "Vivian! Look at
me! We built this together! You can't just throw me onto the street like a dog!
I made mistakes, but I loved you! We can fix this!"
Vivian picked up her briefcase and handed it to Marina, who was standing quietly
near the door.
"You didn't love me, Adrian," Vivian said, her voice dropping to a harsh, icy
whisper as she looked him dead in the eyes. "You loved my father’s name. You
loved my money. And you loved the illusion that you were a king. But kings don't
steal from their queens while they're bleeding on an operating table."
"Vivian! Please!" Adrian pleaded, his voice cracking into a pathetic whimper as
the security guards dragged him backward toward the elevator bank.
The executive elevator doors opened.
Dozens of junior executives, designers, and assistants lined the 50th-floor
hallway, watching in stunned silence as the once-untouchable Adrian Cole was
dragged out of the boardroom, his suit disheveled, his tie crooked, and his face
red with humiliation.
"Badge," the lead security guard demanded coldly once they reached the
ground-floor lobby.
Adrian trembled as he pulled his gold-plated executive access pass from his
pocket. The guard took it, snapped it in half with a sharp crack, and tossed the
pieces into a nearby trash can.
"Your company vehicle in the underground garage has been repossessed under the
corporate lien," the guard added. "You are banned from all Vance properties
nationwide. If you step onto this sidewalk again, you will be arrested for
criminal trespassing."
The guards shoved Adrian through the revolving glass doors.
Adrian stumbled out onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. The cold rain was
pouring down in heavy sheets, soaking through his cashmere suit within seconds.
May you like
Pedestrians in raincoats hurried past, bumping into him without a second glance.
Adrian stood on the street corner, soaking wet, shivering, with zero dollars in
his pocket, zero allies on the board, and nowhere left to go.
