As they dragged Julian away, he turned his head and locked eyes with me. “You can call yourself CEO today, Evelyn. But tomorrow, I’m burning you to the ground.”
The House of Cards
At 2:00 PM, Martin Hale called an emergency session of the board.
I sat at the head of the table. Julian entered flanking two high-priced corporate defense attorneys. He looked smug. The panic from my office was gone, replaced by a calculated, lethal calm.
“My wife is emotionally compromised,” Julian began, addressing the board as if I were a hysterical child. “She has taken a minor personal spat with an employee and initiated an illegal, unauthorized witch hunt.”
“The CEO has the authority to initiate an internal audit, Julian,” Martin Hale stated firmly.
Julian smiled. It was the smile of a predator. “Not if the CEO herself is the primary suspect in the fraud.”
His lawyer slid a thick, leather-bound folder down the table toward me. I opened it.
Inside were dozens of wire approvals, vendor invoices, and electronic authorizations. They were the documents approving the $18.4 million to Chloe’s shell companies, plus another twenty million in off-book transfers.
Every single document bore my digital signature. My executive credentials.
Julian leaned back in his chair. “That, gentlemen, is why I privately opposed my wife’s appointment as CEO. While she was managing our overseas assets, she was siphoning funds using my secretary’s identity to mask her theft.”
I stared at him, the depth of his sociopathy finally laid bare.
When the board had first floated my name for CEO three months ago, Julian had poured us champagne. He had kissed my forehead and said, “This is our chance to build a legacy together.”
