Chapter 5 - The VoteFear wanted me to run.
It wanted me to call my mother, grab Zoey and disappear into whatever country would take us before Gregory could reach the airport.
But fear had already ruled Diane’s life for years.
It had kept Nathan silent.
It had helped Gregory turn an international company into his private machine.
If I ran, Zoey might survive the day.
She would never be safe afterward.
I called my mother from Rachel’s secure phone.
“Change of plan,” I said. “Do not go outside.”
“We’re already in the garage.”
“Get back upstairs.”
A new voice came onto the line.
Calm. Male. Professional.
“Ms. Monroe, this is Marcus Reed. Rachel hired my team.”
Rachel nodded to confirm.
“We have your mother and daughter,” Marcus continued. “The photograph was taken from a vehicle across the street. My people stopped it two blocks away.”
“Who was inside?”
“No one by the time we reached it. Driver abandoned the car.”
“Can you secure the building?”
“I already have.”
“I want Zoey moved.”
“Where?”
I looked at Rachel.
She wrote an address on her legal pad.
A private residence belonging to a retired federal judge who had known Daniel’s father.
“Use no company vehicles,” I said. “No phones except yours.”
“Understood.”
“Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“If anyone comes near my daughter—”
“They won’t.”
His certainty was not comforting.
Nothing could be.
At nine forty-five, Gregory called a second board meeting.
He had moved quickly.
The temporary order freezing my voting rights allowed him to treat my shares as present but ineligible. Without my majority, the remaining directors could suspend me.
Rachel filed an emergency motion to stop the vote.
The judge scheduled a hearing for the afternoon.
Gregory scheduled the vote for ten.
“He’s rushing because Diane is talking,” Rachel said.
“Then we make him afraid of what else she knows.”
Diane sat in a police interview room with Ortega. Her sister had been recovered alive from the Westchester cottage, but officers discovered that several of her prescriptions had been replaced with sedatives.
Gregory had not merely controlled Diane.
He had constructed a prison around her.
At ten o’clock, I entered the conference room again.
This time, two police officers remained in the hallway.
Gregory took his place at the head of the table.
“You have no authority to preside,” I said.
“Under the temporary order, I do.”
“For seventy-two hours.”
“That will be enough.”
Walter Briggs stared at the table.
So did two other directors who had signed the petition.
They no longer looked confident.
They looked trapped.
I placed a copy of Daniel’s photograph in front of each director.
Gregory’s eyes changed when he saw it.
Only for an instant.
“What is this?” Walter asked.
“Evidence related to a criminal investigation.”
Gregory laughed quietly.
“A photograph from a retreat?”
“Turn it over.”
They read Daniel’s message.
If anything happens to me, ask Diane what Gregory made her do.
Walter looked toward Gregory.
“Is this authentic?”
Gregory did not answer him.
He looked at me.
“Diane is unstable.”
“She gave a statement to police.”
“She is vindictive.”
“She says you forced Daniel’s car off the road.”
The room exploded with voices.
Gregory raised one hand.
“Enough.”
The command came so naturally that several directors obeyed before realizing they no longer should.
He turned toward Miriam.
“Proceed with the vote.”
Miriam looked at me.
“I am required to follow the court order.”
“I understand.”
Her hands trembled as she read the motion.
“Motion to suspend Eleanor Monroe from all executive and board authority pending completion of an independent fiduciary review.”
“Seconded,” Walter said softly.
I studied him.
He could not look at me.
Miriam began calling names.
Three directors voted yes.
Two voted no.
One abstained.
Gregory voted yes.
The remaining four would decide it.
Dr. Samuel Price, the oldest director, removed his glasses.
“I have served this company since Eleanor’s father ran it from a rented office above a pharmacy,” he said. “I have disagreed with Eleanor many times. But I will not remove her based on documents produced by a man currently accused of killing her husband.”
Gregory’s face tightened.
Samuel voted no.
The next director, Lillian Graves, voted no.
The count stood five to four against suspension.
Two votes remained.
Walter had already voted yes.
The final votes belonged to brothers Malcolm and Henry Pierce, whose family fund owned nearly eight percent of the public shares.
Malcolm cleared his throat.
“Yes.”
Five to five.
Every eye turned toward Henry.
He was thirty-eight, ambitious and usually inseparable from his older brother.
That morning, sweat darkened the collar of his shirt.
“Henry?” Miriam prompted.
He looked at Gregory.
Then at me.
“I vote—”
His phone lit up.
He froze.
The message was visible from where I sat.
A photograph of two teenage boys walking into a private school.
Henry’s sons.
His lips parted.
“Yes,” he whispered.
The motion passed.
Six to five.
Miriam closed her eyes.
“Eleanor Monroe is suspended effective immediately.”
Gregory exhaled.
Not with relief.
With triumph.
Security entered the room.
“My access?” I asked.
“Revoked,” Gregory said.
“You threatened Henry.”
Henry flinched.
Gregory smiled.
“Another emotional accusation.”
I stood and gathered my documents.
“You should enjoy this hour.”
“Why only an hour?”
“Because men like you always believe winning and surviving are the same thing.”
I walked toward the door.
Gregory called after me.
“Eleanor.”
I turned.
He remained seated in the chair that had belonged to my father.
Then Daniel.
Then me.
“Leave your executive badge.”
I removed it from my jacket and placed it on the table.
“Keep it polished.”
His smile returned.
“Planning to come back?”
“No.”
I looked around the room.
“I’m planning to remove the chair.”
Outside, Rachel joined me at the elevator.
“We lost.”
“We lost the vote.”
“That is usually what losing means.”
“Not today.”
I showed her a message I had received during the roll call.
It came from Nathan’s number.
A location pin.
Lake George.
Beneath it were five words.
THE ORIGINAL RECORDS ARE HERE.
Rachel stared at the screen.
“It could be a trap.”
“It is definitely a trap.”
“Then we call Ortega.”
“We do.”
“And we do not go ourselves.”
I pressed the elevator button.
“Of course not.”
Rachel looked at me.
“You are lying.”
The doors opened.
Inside stood Marcus Reed.
Tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a dark coat, he carried no visible weapon. His expression suggested he did not need one to make people nervous.
“Your daughter is secure,” he said.
“Good.”
He glanced at the message on my phone.
“You’re going somewhere.”
“Lake George.”
Rachel sighed.
Marcus studied me for a long moment.
“When?”
“Now.”
As the elevator descended, another message arrived.
A photograph of Nathan tied to a chair inside a hotel room.
Room 314.
May you like
Across his chest, someone had taped a handwritten sign.
BRING DIANE OR HE DIES.
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