Chapter 5 - Exposed in the Sun
On Thursday morning, the executive boardroom on the top floor of Abercrombie Media Group was filled to capacity.
All eleven members of the Board of Directors sat around the sleek oval mahogany table. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the autumn sky was clear and brilliant. Inside, the air was tense, sharp, and smelling of dark coffee and crisp paper.
I sat at the head of the table.
My bruise had faded to a light yellowish shadow, and my lip was almost healed. I wore a tailored midnight-blue silk dress. Beside me sat Arthur Vance and Chief Auditor Sarah Jenkins.
At the far end of the table, two seats stood noticeably empty: the chairs previously occupied by Vice President Cassandra Vance and Senior Real Estate Consultant Xavier Vance.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, my voice quiet, steady, and commanding total attention. “Thank you for attending this extraordinary session. You have all received the preliminary report prepared by Arthur Vance and Deloitte regarding the recent administrative restructuring.”
Robert Vance—no relation to Arthur, but a senior board member who had aligned himself with Cassandra over the past year—cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Loretta,” Robert said, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “We all respect what you’ve built here. But the rumors circulating in the publishing world over the last three days are damaging our stock valuation. People are saying you stripped your own granddaughter of her executive powers in a fit of personal anger. Is it wise to handle family disputes so publicly?”
I looked at Robert calmly. Then I nodded to Sarah Jenkins.
Sarah pressed a button on her laptop. The large digital display screen at the front of the room came to life.
“Mr. Vance,” Sarah Jenkins stated crisply, “what took place on Monday was not a personal dispute. It was an emergency corporate intervention.”
She brought up a series of financial spreadsheets highlighted in bright red.
“Over the past eighteen months,” Sarah explained, “former Vice President Cassandra Vance operated the literary agency subsidiary as her personal piggy bank. She approved unauthorized loan guarantees totaling $1.2 million to shell companies owned by her husband, Xavier Vance. She forged Mrs. Abercrombie’s digital signature on three separate banking authorizations and altered internal audit records to hide a $400,000 operational deficit.”
Gasps rippled through the boardroom. Robert Vance stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open.
“Furthermore,” Arthur Vance chimed in, leaning forward, “we have filed a formal civil complaint to recover all misappropriated corporate funds. The state prosecutor’s office has been briefed, and criminal indictments for forgery and wire fraud are currently being reviewed.”
Robert swallowed hard, looking down at his desk. “I… I had no idea the financial irregularities ran that deep.”
“Neither did I, Robert,” I said softly. “Because I trusted her. Because I allowed my maternal love to cloud my fiduciary duty to this company and to every employee who works beneath this roof.”
I stood up slowly, resting my hands on the mahogany table, looking each board member dead in the eye.
“I spent forty years building Abercrombie Media Group,” I continued, my voice carrying the weight of four decades of sweat, sacrifice, and triumph. “I built it on integrity, hard work, and loyalty to our authors and our staff. I made a mistake by placing an entitled, undisciplined individual in a position of power she had not earned. But I will not make the mistake of letting her destroy it.”
I gestured toward the screen.
“I am asking the Board today for a formal, unanimous vote to terminate Cassandra Vance from all corporate positions, strip her of all residual equity claims, and authorize full cooperation with law enforcement.”
A quiet beat passed in the boardroom.
Robert Vance raised his hand first. “I move to approve the Chairman’s motion.”
One by one, every hand around that eleven-person table went up into the air.
“Motion passed unanimously,” Arthur declared, recording the vote in the official ledger.
As the board members began gathering their papers, Arthur walked over to my side and leaned down, whispering softly into my ear.
“Loretta,” he said quietly. “There’s someone waiting in the lobby downstairs. She’s been sitting there since seven o’clock this morning.”
I looked at him. “Cassandra?”
Arthur nodded grimly. “She doesn't have an appointment. Security offered to remove her, but she refuses to leave until she speaks with you.”
May you like
I looked out the window at the morning sun reflecting off the city buildings.
“Tell Marcus to let her up,” I said softly. “It’s time she and I had our final conversation.”
