Chapter 4 - THE BOARDROOM AMBUSH
At 1:00 PM, I walked into the main glass boardroom of Thorne Financial on LaSalle Street.
Sitting at the head of the polished oak table was Marcus Thorne, looking grim. Sitting across from him, wearing a bespoke suit, was Arthur Hayes—Daniel’s maternal uncle—and beside Arthur sat Daniel himself.
Daniel looked disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie slightly askew, but when he saw me walk into the room, a flash of arrogant triumph lit up his face. He thought he had trapped me. He thought that by bringing corporate pressure onto my firm, I would crumble, unlock the apartment door, and fall back into line.
“Claire,” Marcus said quietly. “Mr. Hayes has raised some concerns regarding your recent personal stability and how it might impact your oversight of the Meridian Portfolio.”
I didn't sit down. I stood at the foot of the table, holding my leather portfolio, my posture immaculate.
“Mr. Hayes,” I spoke directly to Arthur, ignoring Daniel completely. “Could you specify what corporate metrics in the Meridian Portfolio have failed to meet your advisory standards?”
Arthur cleared his throat, adjusting his gold cufflinks. “It’s not about the metrics, Claire. It’s about judgment. My nephew informs me that you’ve been behaving erratically, engaging in hostile domestic disputes, and locking family members out of residences. We cannot have a lead analyst managing forty million dollars of client equity if her personal life is in chaos.”
Daniel leaned forward, offering a fake, sympathetic smile.
“Claire, no one wants to hurt your career,” Daniel said smoothly, playing the role of the long-suffering, caring husband in front of my boss. “We just want you to take a leave of absence. Go home, apologize to my mother, work on our marriage, and let the firm handle Meridian while you get help.”
Marcus Thorne looked at me, waiting to see if I would buckle under the weight of the accusation.
I opened my portfolio, pulled out three stapled documents, and slid them across the glass table to Marcus.
“What is this?” Marcus asked.
“That,” I said, my voice echoing clearly in the silent boardroom, “is the official Cook County Police Department incident report filed against Patricia Hayes for criminal battery. Along with a copy of the emergency protective order issued against Daniel Hayes this morning.”
Arthur froze. Daniel’s face went dead white.
“Furthermore,” I continued, turning my cold gaze onto Daniel, “I have conducted an internal audit of the joint accounts Daniel used over the past twenty-four months. It appears Daniel has been using proprietary market data from Thorne Financial—which he accessed through my home office computer—to make unauthorized personal trades through his uncle’s private fund.”
Arthur slammed his hand onto the table, his face turning dark red. “That’s a lie!”
“Is it?” I asked calmly. “The SEC compliance committee received the digital audit trail two hours ago, Arthur. They’re reviewing the IP addresses right now.”
May you like
Marcus Thorne stood up so fast his leather chair rolled back into the glass wall. He looked at Daniel and Arthur with pure corporate fury.
“Gentlemen,” Marcus barked, pointing toward the door. “Get out of my building before I have security throw you onto LaSalle Street.”
