Chapter 7 - Stripped of the Name
The massive multimedia screens lining the ballroom—originally intended to display Ethan’s promotional video—flickered.
Suddenly, high-definition security footage filled the fifteen-foot screens.
The entire room went dead silent.
The video played with crystal-clear audio: Ethan Carter leaning against his Mercedes at 2:15 AM, laughing loudly as two thugs smashed through the front window of my home with crowbars. The crimson spray paint spelling out *'You'll regret this'* was projected in horrifying detail for every business partner, investor, and city official to witness.
Gasps of absolute horror rippled through the crowd.
"Turn that off!" Ethan screamed, lunging toward the audiovisual booth. "Turn it off right now!"
Two off-duty state troopers hired by Walter stepped in front of Ethan, blocking him with impenetrable stone faces. Ethan rebounded off them, stumbling backward and landing hard on the polished marble.
Then, a new audio recording played through the club’s surround-sound speakers.
It was the phone call from yesterday afternoon: Ethan frantically begging Marcus Drake for more time, promising to steal the deed to my house and forge my signature to clear his gambling debts.
*“Just give me two more days, Drake! My dad is forcing Leo to sign the house over! As soon as the title clears, I'll liquidate the equity and give you your hundred and eighty grand! Just don't tell Walter!”*
Robert stared at the screens, his mouth hanging open, his world disintegrating around him in real time. Several prominent investors stepped backward, visibly distancing themselves from him.
"Ethan..." Robert choked out, turning on his son. "You... you told me the money was for a tech startup! You swore you didn't have anything to do with the vandalism!"
"You knew exactly who he was, Robert," I said, stepping forward onto the raised stage, looking down at my father. "You knew he was rotten to the core. But instead of holding him accountable, you slapped me across the face at our Thanksgiving table because I refused to be his sacrificial lamb."
Whispers turned into open outrage.
"He struck his own son?" a prominent female investor murmured in disgust. "Savages."
"Did you think the world wouldn't see?" I continued, my voice steady, cutting through the suffocating tension. "You thought because you had a title, you were invincible. But a title without character is just a costume."
Walter stepped onto the platform, standing shoulder to shoulder with me. He turned to face the stunned crowd of two hundred elites.
"Effective at six o'clock this morning," Walter announced, his voice ringing with absolute finality, "Robert Carter was formally removed as Trustee and Chief Executive Officer of Carter Enterprise Holdings for gross misconduct, breach of fiduciary duty, and criminal negligence."
Robert clutched his chest, stumbling against the podium. "Father! No! You can't do this! I gave twenty-five years to that company!"
"You took twenty-five years of unearned wealth from that company," Walter shot back without an ounce of mercy. "And as of this moment, your executive compensation, your corporate residences, and all trust-backed credit lines are permanently terminated. You will vacate the suburban estate by Friday noon."
"Where am I supposed to live?!" Eleanor’s shrill cry cut through the room as she rushed up from her VIP table, her makeup streaked with tears. "Walter, you're throwing your own son onto the street?!"
Walter looked at her with pure, unadulterated coldness. "You raised a predator, Eleanor. And you watched him hunt his own brother. You may live wherever your remaining honesty can afford."
Walter turned to Harrison Vance. "Deliver the final resolution."
Vance stepped forward, opening the master charter. "By unanimous declaration of the Founding Trust, the entirety of Carter Enterprise Holdings, its subsidiary logistics networks, its commercial real estate portfolios, and all controlling voting shares are hereby transferred in full to the sole appointed Chairman and Successor Trustee: Mr. Leo Carter."
A breathless shock hung in the air for one heartbeat.
Then, the lead member of the board of directors stepped forward, raised his champagne flute toward me, and bowed his head.
May you like
"To Chairman Leo Carter," he declared.
The entire room followed suit, raising their glasses in a thunderous wave of acknowledgment, leaving Robert and Ethan standing in the center of the hall, stripped, humiliated, and utterly broken.
