Chapter 7 - The Boardroom Ambush
The colossal screen lit up the ballroom with humiliating clarity.
Four hundred elite guests watched in stunned, breathless silence as the video revealed Paige Renshaw standing by the pool, looking around to ensure Callum was coming, and then deliberately breaking a champagne glass against the granite table before slicing her own forearm.
"No... turn it off! TURN IT OFF!" Paige shrieked, dropping her glass. It shattered against the parquet floor, echoing the very sound that had started this nightmare.
The AV booth ignored Callum’s frantic arm-waving. Jude had already replaced the hotel’s technicians with his own team ten minutes before we entered.
On the screen, the video reached its climax: Callum charging across the lawn and violently shoving me—his seven-months-pregnant wife—into eight feet of water, followed by his complete abandonment of me while Jude dived in to pull me from the bottom.
"Oh my God," someone whispered loudly in the front row.
"He shoved her... he almost drowned his own baby!"
"He’s an absolute monster!"
Flashbulbs detonated across the room as the press corps—invited by Callum to document his triumph—turned their lenses entirely upon him and his trembling mistress.
"Elena, that footage is manipulated! It’s an AI deepfake!" Callum yelled, sweat pouring down his forehead, soaking his silk collar. "You’re framing us! Board members, do not listen to this slander!"
"It isn't a deepfake, Callum," Marcus Vance said, stepping onto the raised platform and taking the microphone from the podium. "The video has already been authenticated by the New York State Police Department’s digital forensics unit. In fact, Detective Miller is standing at the back of the room right now."
Callum’s head whipped toward the double doors. Two uniformed police officers and a plainclothes detective were already moving briskly down the center aisle.
"Callum, do something!" Paige panicked, grabbing his lapels, her immaculate mask completely gone. "You promised me you would protect me! You promised!"
"Get away from me!" Callum shoved Paige away with such disgust that she stumbled and fell to the floor, her emerald gown bunching awkwardly beneath her knees. The crowd murmured in revulsion at his sudden turn against his own lover.
"Miss Paige Renshaw," Detective Miller announced, arriving at the base of the stage and producing a set of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for filing a false police report, attempted extortion, and criminal fraud."
"Fraud?" Callum echoed, blinking stupidly. "What fraud?"
Marcus looked down at Callum with cold, unyielding pity. "Did you really think she loved you, Callum? Did you think a twenty-nine-year-old corporate strategist was sleeping with you because of your dazzling charm?"
Marcus pulled a set of printouts from his briefcase and projected them onto the massive screen, replacing the pool video with bank transfer receipts and server logs.
"For the past six months, Miss Renshaw has been siphoning proprietary algorithmic code from your firm and transferring consulting payments to Apex Global Holdings—a dummy corporation directly controlled by Julian Cross."
Callum froze. His eyes darted to the screen, reading the transfer codes, the IP logs, and the account numbers he had personally signed off on.
"Cross?" Callum croaked, his voice cracking. "Julian Cross?"
He turned to look at Paige, who was being hauled to her feet by the police officers. "Paige... tell me he’s lying. Tell me this isn't true!"
Paige stopped crying. She looked up at Callum, wiped mascara from her eye with her cuffed hands, and let out a vicious, mocking laugh.
"You idiot," Paige spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Did you really think I wanted a self-absorbed, arrogant dinosaur like you? You were nothing but an open door. Julian promised me twenty percent of the profits once Project Prometheus went live on his trading desk. You were so pathetic, Callum. You were so desperate to believe I worshiped you that you handed me the code on a silver platter."
Callum took a step back, clutching his chest as if he were having a heart attack. "No... no, no, no..."
"Take her away," Detective Miller ordered. The officers dragged a snarling Paige out through the double doors, the media trailing behind them like hounds on a fresh scent.
Callum turned back to me, his hands shaking, his face pale as death. "Elena... Elena, please. You have to believe me. I didn't know! She tricked me! I was trying to protect the firm!"
"You weren't trying to protect the firm, Callum," I said, stepping closer to him, my voice loud and unwavering. "You were trying to protect your own sick ego. You thought you could treat me like disposable trash. You thought you could endanger our daughter’s life and sweep it under the rug with an NDA."
"Elena, we can fix this," Callum begged, dropping to one knee before me, completely oblivious to the hundreds of cameras capturing his absolute humiliation. "Think of our marriage! Think of our baby! We built this company together!"
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"No, Callum," Marcus Vance interrupted, handing me the master covenant of Hargrove Capital. "You didn't build this company. Arthur Sterling built this company. And now, Arthur’s daughter is taking it back."
***
