Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE OF SARTORI HOLDINGS
The emergency board meeting was set for 8:00 a.m. the following morning.
The top floor of the Sartori building was wrapped in a blanket of low-hanging clouds, making the city outside look like a sea of white fog. Inside the grand boardroom, twelve men in dark suits sat around a thirty-foot table made of polished black granite.
At the head of the table sat Arthur Vance—no relation to Noel, but a senior director who had been bribed by Moretti Logistics with offshore accounts in Grand Cayman.
"Emmet isn't coming," Arthur announced, checking his gold wristwatch with a satisfied smirk. "It's eight-fifteen. Under section nine of our charter, if the managing director fails to appear for a extraordinary session regarding lease liquidations, the board may proceed by two-thirds majority vote."
"The vote stands," another director agreed, raising his pen. "We sell the lease options for Terminals One and Two to Moretti Logistics for forty million."
"I wouldn't sign that paper if I were you, Arthur," a quiet voice echoed from the doorway.
The double mahogany doors swung open.
Emmet Sartori walked into the boardroom. He wore a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit, his hair brushed back, his presence filling the immense room with an aura of absolute command.
Beside him walked Noel Vance.
She carried a leather portfolio under her arm, her head held high, wearing a dark navy dress she had bought two years ago for a conference she had never been allowed to present at. Her posture was straight, her eyes calm and unyielding as she scanned the twelve men who had ignored her for three years.
"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur snapped, standing up. "This is an executive session! Secretarial staff are not permitted in the boardroom!"
"Miss Vance isn't here as secretarial staff, Arthur," Emmet said smoothly, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and gesturing for Noel to take a seat beside him. "She is here as the Chief Archival Officer of Sartori Holdings—a position I created for her this morning."
A murmur ran through the directors.
"This is absurd!" Arthur shouted. "We are holding a legal vote on lease liquidations!"
"You can't liquidate the leases," Noel said, her voice clear, articulate, and carrying through the vast room with absolute authority. She opened her portfolio and pulled out the preserved 1948 charter, sliding the certified copies across the granite table toward each director.
"Under Section 14, Clause B of the original founding deed," Noel continued, not looking at a single notes page, reciting the law from memory, "any sale or transfer of deep-water port access requires the un-coerced, written consent of the primary deed holder. The deed was never destroyed. It has been held in our subterranean archive since its signing."
Arthur’s face turned the color of ashes. He picked up the copy, his hands trembling as his eyes scanned the iron-gall signatures at the bottom of the parchment.
"This... this is a forgery!" Arthur stammered.
"The original is currently sitting in a vault at the District Attorney's office, Arthur," Emmet said, leaning forward, resting his hands on the table. "Along with the bank records showing the two-point-four million dollars transferred from Moretti Logistics to your account in Grand Cayman last Tuesday."
Two federal marshals stepped through the double doors behind Emmet.
"Arthur Vance," the lead marshal said. "You are under arrest for corporate fraud, conspiracy, and racketeering."
Panic broke out in the boardroom as the marshals moved in. Directors scrambled from their seats, papers flew across the black granite, and shouting echoed off the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
In the middle of the chaos, Emmet stood still. He turned to Noel, who was calmly gathering her papers back into her portfolio.
May you like
He extended his hand to her. She looked up, met his gaze, and placed her hand in his.
"Let's go home, Noel," he said softly.
