Chapter 4 - The Snakes in Silk
The 50th floor of Blackwell Enterprises was thick with tension when the elevator doors slid open.
Robert walked through the glass doors like a storm. His suit was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, but his posture radiated lethal intent. The employees in the hallway scattered like dry leaves.
He kicked open the double doors of the boardroom.
Inside, twelve board members were seated around the mahogany table. At the head of the table stood Richard Klein—a ruthless, silver-haired tycoon in a gray three-piece suit—and beside him sat Robert’s own chief legal officer, Donald Vance (the twin brother of the hospital doctor, Robert suddenly remembered with sickening clarity).
"Robert," Richard Klein smiled, though his eyes remained icy. "We were concerned for your health. Abandoning a ten-billion-dollar transaction without a word... we thought you had suffered a nervous breakdown."
"Sit down, Richard," Robert said, his voice dangerously low.
"I don't think you hold the authority to command this room anymore, Robert," Donald Vance, the lawyer, chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "Under Section 4 of the corporate charter, three-quarters of the board has voted to temporarily suspend your executive powers due to emotional instability."
Robert slowly walked up to the head of the table. He leaned his hands on the polished wood, staring straight into Klein’s eyes.
"My son was poisoned two hours ago," Robert said softly.
A few board members gasped, looking uncomfortable. But Klein’s face didn't break.
"A tragedy," Klein said smoothly. "A personal tragedy. But business cannot pause for personal misfortunes, Robert. The market moves."
"Who gave my son the poisoned pretzel, Richard?" Robert asked directly.
The room went dead silent.
"What ridiculous slander is this?" Klein sneered, stepping back. "You've lost your mind, Blackwell! Security, remove him!"
"Nobody moves," Robert growled.
The boardroom door opened. Marcus, Robert’s chief of security, walked in holding a tablet. Behind him were two detectives from the NYPD Major Crimes Division.
"We pulled the traffic cameras from Lexington and Eighty-Second," Marcus announced to the room. "And we tapped the encrypted messaging logs from Klein Systems. Forty-five minutes before Parker collapsed, a cash transaction was made from a dummy LLC owned by Klein's legal firm to an associate of Arthur—Robert's family driver."
The color drained from Donald Vance’s face.
Robert didn't punch Klein. He didn't scream. He simply looked at the board members who had just voted against him.
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"You traded my son's life for stock options," Robert said, his voice trembling with controlled rage. "Every single one of you who signed that vote will be ruined by morning. I own fifty-one percent of the voting shares through my private trust. The suspension vote was illegal without my presence."
He turned to the detectives. "Take Mr. Klein and Mr. Vance into custody."
