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Chapter 4 - The Boardroom PanicAt 2:30 PM, the top floor of Sterling Tower in downtown Manhattan was in total chaos.

Federal agents in windbreakers marked DOJ FINANCIAL CRIMES stood beside server racks in the IT department, downloading millions of transaction logs, while board members argued loudly around the mahogany conference table.

Grant Sterling stood at the head of the room, his tie loosened, sweat soaking through his linen collar as his corporate attorneys shouted into their phones.

“This is a misunderstanding!” Grant shouted to the lead federal agent. “My wife is undergoing medical treatment! She isn't in her right mind!”

The heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open.

I walked down the central aisle wearing a tailored black suit, a stylish silk scarf expertly wrapped around my hair to cover the cut section, flanked by Arthur Sterling and four federal marshals!

The entire room went dead silent.

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Grant gasped, backing against the glass window, his face draining of every drop of color. “Claire...?”

“I am completely sane, Grant,” I announced, setting a certified legal dossier onto the center of the table. “And as sole heir to the Sterling Family Trust, I am exercising Section 14 of the Founding Charter.”

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