Kapitel 16 – Infiltration des Vorstandssaals
Der gläserne und stählerne Monolith des Moretti Global Tower ragte aus den grauen Wolken Chicagos hervor.
Um 14:00 Uhr war der Sitzungssaal der Geschäftsleitung im 80. Stock mit den zwölf einflussreichsten Vorstandsmitgliedern des Konzerns gefüllt, die ein globales Kapital in Milliardenhöhe repräsentierten.
Am selben Morgen wurde plötzlich ein feindseliger Antrag eingereicht: ein Eilantrag auf Misstrauen gegen Vincent Moretti, in dem ihm die rücksichtslose Gefährdung von Firmenvermögen und der ungenehmigte Einsatz privater paramilitärischer Kräfte am Pier 42 vorgeworfen wurden.
Die doppelten Mahagonitüren schwangen mit ungeheurer Wucht auf.
Vincent kam herein, flankiert von Julian und seinen leitenden Unternehmensanwälten.
Seine Präsenz war erdrückend; das Gemurmel unter den älteren Vorstandsmitgliedern verstummte augenblicklich.
Vincent setzte sich nicht.
Er stand am Kopfende des riesigen Marmortisches, sein dunkler Blick schweifte über die nervösen Führungskräfte.
„Ich verstehe“, begann Vincent mit eiskalter Stimme, „dass sich hier jemand berechtigt fühlt, meine Führung dieses Unternehmens in Frage zu stellen.“
Marcus Vance, the senior-most board member and a long-time ally of Vincent’s late father, cleared his throat nervously.
“Vincent, we all respect what you have built.
But the events of last night made headlines.
Armed conflict on the docks?
Federal investigations hovering around our logistics hubs?
The stock dropped four points this morning.
Furthermore… an anonymous shareholder holding seven percent of voting shares has formally challenged your authority.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Seven percent?
The Sterling shares were liquidated this morning.”
“Not the Sterling shares, Vincent,” a smooth, cultured voice announced from the speaker system embedded in the center of the conference table.
Every head turned toward the speakerphone.
“Who authorized this line?”
Julian barked, stepping toward the console.
“Let him speak,” Vincent commanded, his voice deadly calm.
“Hello, board members,” Arthur’s voice resonated through the high-end acoustics.
“And hello, little brother.
I see you’ve kept my chair warm.”
Murmurs of absolute shock erupted around the room.
Marcus Vance turned pale as a sheet.
“Arthur?
That’s impossible… you’re dead!”
“Reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated, Marcus,” Arthur chuckled smoothly.
“Through a network of offshore trusts registered in Zurich and Singapore, I have quietly repurchased seven percent of Moretti Global over the past three years.
According to Section 4 of our late father’s corporate bylaws, as an original heir holding more than five percent of voting equity, I am legally entitled to attend the annual shareholder summit next week—and to challenge the CEO for operational control.”
Vincent leaned forward, resting both hands on the polished marble, speaking directly into the microphone.
“You won’t make it to that summit, Arthur.
You set foot in this building, and you will leave in a body bag.”
“Threats, Vincent?
In front of our distinguished board?”
Arthur mocked gently.
“How unrefined.
You may control the security, little brother, but you don’t control the board.
And more importantly… you don’t control the past.
Give my regards to the delightful Miss Carter.
Tell her to ask you about the summer of 2014… and how her father really lost his logistics firm.”
The line clicked dead.
Chapter 17 – The Whispers of Betrayal
Back at the Moretti Estate, Emma was sitting in the glass-walled conservatory, watching Liam play chess with an elderly security guard named Thomas, who had served the Moretti family for thirty years.
Liam was smiling, genuinely relaxed for the first time in days.
Yet Emma’s mind was in turmoil.
She held an old leather-bound notebook in her lap.
When she had agreed to take the administrative position at Moretti Global before the kidnapping, Julian had given her access to the digitized personnel and historical archives to prepare her.
But after hearing Arthur mention her name at the docks, a gnawing suspicion had taken root in her gut.
Why had Arthur targeted her?
Was it truly just because she had stood up to Victoria Sterling at the banquet?
Or had Victoria’s choice of target been manipulated by Arthur for a far deeper reason?
Emma opened her tablet, logging into the secure corporate historical index using the credentials Vincent had granted her.
She typed in her father’s name: David Carter.
Her father had been a hardworking independent freight contractor in Chicago.
When Emma was nineteen, his company had suddenly collapsed under massive debt and allegations of cargo fraud.
David Carter had suffered a massive, fatal heart attack shortly after the bankruptcy, leaving Emma alone to raise ten-year-old Liam while working double shifts as a waitress to pay off what remained of the debts.
She hit search.
A red warning flashed on the screen: RESTRICTED ARCHIVE — LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE REQUIRED.
ACCESS ATTEMPT LOGGED.
Emma pulled her fingers back from the screen as if she had been burned.
Why would a small-time trucking company from the South Side be locked behind Level 5 clearance in Moretti Global’s deepest vaults?
“Looking for something, Emma?”
