Chapter 21 - The Boston Meeting
The boardroom on the forty-second floor of the Beacon Hill Financial Tower offered a sweeping, panoramic view of the Boston skyline under a grey, slate-colored sky.
Gregory Vance looked flushed and uncomfortable in his custom-tailored charcoal suit, constantly shifting his weight in his executive leather chair. Across the gleaming mahogany conference table sat Raphael Moretti, flanked by two corporate attorneys who looked like they ate litigation for breakfast. Sloan sat slightly to Raphael’s right, wearing a sharp, tailored black coat, her posture rigid and completely composed.
"Mr. Moretti, I must confess, I don't understand the urgency of this summons," Gregory stammered, attempting a blustery front that failed miserably under Raphael’s icy glare. "My firm is currently engaged in a major municipal acquisition in upstate New York—"
"Your firm is currently insolvent, Mr. Vance," Raphael interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a scalpel. He slid a single, thick manila folder across the polished table. "According to our audit of the Bay State Mercantile Bank, your holding company has defaulted on four consecutive interest payments against your primary development loan."
Gregory’s face drained of color. He snatched the folder open, his eyes darting frantically across the columns of figures. "That’s... that’s impossible. We have a sixty-day grace period—"
"The grace period was legally revoked at 9:00 AM this morning under Section 14 of the master credit agreement," Sloan said, her voice smooth, calm, and utterly devastating. She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. "Which means your shell corporation has thirty minutes to sign over all interest in the Harbor Ridge leasehold, or my associates will initiate immediate bankruptcy proceedings against every asset you own, including your summer home in Newport."
"You can't do that!" Gregory shouted, half-rising from his chair, spittle flying from his lips. "Who do you think you are—this is family business!"
May you like
"There is no family left, Gregory," Sloan said coldly, looking at her cousin as if he were a particularly unpleasant stain on an otherwise clean ledger. "There are only people who build things, and people like you who try to tear them down for a quick profit. Sign the papers."
Gregory looked from Sloan’s unyielding eyes to Raphael’s dark, menacing calm, realizing with absolute terror that he had walked into a slaughterhouse. With shaking fingers, he grabbed the pen and signed his name across the dotted line.
