PART 3: THE HUNT IN THE BOARDROOM
Following that explosive night at the Grand Meridian Resort, Holden Carney did not go down without a fight. He knew he was facing a hefty prison sentence if convicted of forgery and embezzling thirty-eight million dollars. That very night, Holden fled Sedona, speeding back to our estate in Montecito in a desperate attempt to liquidate and hide whatever assets he had left.
But he had severely underestimated Fiona Carney. When Holden used his master key to slip into our twenty-million-dollar mansion, he was stunned to find the entire house brightly lit. Sitting in my father’s leather armchair in the middle of the living room was none other than attorney Sigrid Green, flanked by two digital forensics experts.
"You're too late, Holden," Sigrid said, his glasses catching the light. "All personal and business bank accounts linked to you have been frozen by an emergency court order as of 9:00 PM tonight. The Porsche you just drove here? It’s a company vehicle, and its GPS tracking brought us straight to you."
Holden dashed into his private study, frantically trying to open the hidden wall safe behind the portrait. But when the thick steel door swung open, it was completely empty. Not a single gold bar, not a single offshore stock certificate remained. In their place sat a small, black audio recorder.
With shaking fingers, Holden hit play. My calm, even voice filled the quiet room:
"Holden, you always thought I was too sentimental about my father's legacy. You were right about one thing: I love his legacy, and that is exactly why I will protect it at all costs. Three months ago, when you thought I was vacationing in Paris to 'heal my soul,' I was actually sitting with forensic auditors from Deloitte, dissecting every single transaction you ever made. Every time you wired money to your mistress, every time you forged my name on loan agreements, my security system flagged it. This house no longer belongs to you, Holden. Title ownership was legally transferred to the Norwood Charitable Foundation last week."
Holden let out a manic scream, smashing the recorder onto the hardwood floor. He realized he had walked into a trap that had been meticulously laid out for months. I hadn't been enduring his betrayal out of blindness; I had simply been waiting for him to reach the peak of his arrogance before delivering the fatal blow.
The next morning, the financial media exploded. The name Holden Carney—once the model husband and the rising star of hospitality management—was plastered across every headline: “Financial Scandal Rocks Norwood Hospitality: CEO Accused of $38M Fraud.” The corporation's stock dipped slightly, but I immediately called an emergency press conference at our corporate headquarters in New York.
Stepping up to the podium in a tailored white suit, my blonde hair swept back in a regal updo, I faced the flashing cameras without a hint of hesitation.
"Distinguished shareholders and partners," my voice rang clear and resolute through the microphone. "The betrayal of Holden Carney is a deeply painful personal matter, but it cannot shake the foundations of Norwood Hospitality. My father, Thomas Norwood, built this empire on honesty, grit, and integrity. Last night, the Board of Directors officially terminated Holden Carney from all positions. I, Fiona Norwood, am officially stepping in as Chief Executive Officer effective immediately. The thirty-eight million dollars in diverted funds has already been fully covered by my family's private reserves and insurance policies. Your interests remain untouched, and Norwood will only grow stronger from this day forward."
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A thunderous round of applause erupted across the auditorium. The major shareholders, who had once doubted the capability of a gentle woman like me, now looked at me with absolute reverence. They realized that the fierce, unyielding blood of Thomas Norwood had never faded—it had simply been waiting for the right moment to awaken.
Meanwhile, Holden Carney was forced to hide out in a cheap, rented apartment on the outskirts of the city, frantically calling his old tycoon "friends" to beg for legal defense funds. But the business world is cold. When you are at the top, everyone is your friend; when you fall, you are a liability everyone wants to avoid. Even Katelyn Reed had already signed a cooperation agreement with the prosecution, handing over every gift and asset Holden had given her in exchange for a lighter sentence. Holden was entirely alone.
