Chapter 6 - MARGARET’S LAST STAND
The three o'clock emergency shareholder meeting at Hale Tower was less a corporate conference and more an execution of the old regime.
By five p.m., the proxy votes were tallied.
Morgan Strategic Capital officially assumed absolute control of eighty-two percent of the voting shares. Daniel Hale was formally stripped of his executive titles, his board seat, and his corporate indemnity protection.
I was named Chairwoman of the Board.
As the remaining directors exited the room in hushed, nervous tones, Margaret Hale remained seated at the end of the long table. She had refused to leave the building all afternoon, sitting like a frozen statue in her pearl necklace and tailored tweed suit.
I walked over to the head of the table, setting down my tablet.
"The security team is waiting outside, Margaret," I said quietly. "You don't need to make this harder on yourself."
Margaret slowly raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by deep wrinkles that makeup could no longer hide. The regal, cold matriarch who had spent ten months treating me like dirt had withered into a bitter, defeated woman.
"You think you've won, don't you, little girl?" Margaret rasped, her voice trembling with hatred.
"This isn't a game, Margaret," I said. "This is business."
"You destroyed my son!" she spat, slamming her frail hand onto the table. "He was a good boy! He had a bright future! You set a trap for him!"
"Your son is thirty-four years old, Margaret," I countered smoothly. "He made his own choices. He chose to steal. He chose to forge documents. And he chose to treat the woman who saved his company like an obstacle to be manipulated."
Margaret sneered, leaning forward. "Do you really think the city will accept you? Do you think the social board, the foundations, the families who run Chicago will welcome a cold, calculating snake who ruined her own fiancé?"
I let out a soft laugh.
"I don't care about your social board, Margaret," I said. "I don't care about your galas, your opera seats, or your country club lunches. While you were spending thirty years pretending to be royalty on stolen money, I was building an empire that owns the ground your house stands on."
Margaret blinked, stunned. "What are you talking about?"
I pulled a single legal notice from my leather folder and slid it across the table to her.
"Your estate in Lake Forest," I explained. "Your husband took out a secondary mortgage on the property fifteen years ago with First Chicago Trust. That mortgage was bundled into a private debt portfolio eight years ago."
Margaret’s hands shook as she picked up the paper.
"My firm bought that portfolio four years ago, Margaret," I said. "You haven't made a mortgage payment in six months because Daniel was hiding the notices from you to keep up appearances. As Chairwoman of Morgan Strategic Capital, I am initiating foreclosure proceedings on the Lake Forest estate tomorrow morning."
May you like
Margaret dropped the paper, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. "You... you are taking my home?"
"It was never really yours, Margaret," I told her, stepping closer and looking down into her pale face. "You took my father's pride twenty years ago. I'm just taking back the rent."
