Page 173 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
Morgan stares at the report, then back at the impassive faces around the table. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Trapped.
He collapses back into his chair.
Copies of the forensic accounting report are passed around.
I wait as the board members skim the contents. Morgan doesn’t even look at his. He’s given up.
When I’m satisfied everyone has had enough time to review the report, I speak.
“I move for the immediate removal of Morgan Weiss from the Hammond & Co. board for cause.”
The vote is swift. Unanimous.
“You will leave the room immediately,” I instruct Morgan. “Pending further legal action.”
He stumbles out, his face a mask of disbelief and fury.
Good riddance.
With the viper ejected, I take a deep breath and address the remaining board members, going into the immediate, discreet steps already underway to address the legacy SPEs my father had created, including the strict legal and accounting supervision necessary to analyze, consolidate, and unwind the structures responsibly.
“This process is complex and requires careful handling to ensure full transparency and regulatory compliance moving forward,” I state firmly. “It represents a legacy issue this board, under my leadership, is proactively addressing and correcting. We will emerge from this stronger, cleaner, and fully transparent.”
My ownership of the problem coupled with a clear plan for remediation seems to reassure them.They see I’m not hiding it, not minimizing it, but tackling it head-on.
Leaving the boardroom that afternoon, I feel… lighter. Vindicated. Truly, finally, in charge. Mark’s threat is gone. Morgan is out. The SPEs are being handled, the secrecy stripped away under my own authority.
Hammond & Co. still faces challenges, but the path forward feels clearer, cleaner.
Mine to navigate. The partnership with Blackwell Innovations there for support when we need it.
Just as Christopher is there for me when I needhim.
That evening, Christopher tells me he has a surprise.
He instructs Victor to drive us downtown, towards Tribeca.
We pull up outside a familiar spot, the old Sterling-Hammond building. A beautiful Art Deco structure my grandfather built in partnership with the Sterlings decades ago, one of the jewels in Hammond’s original crown. We had to sell it off five years ago during a previous financial crunch to service corporate debt. It broke Dad’s heart.
It always represented the best of Hammond’s architectural vision. Lately, rumors were swirling that a mega-developer was buying it, planning to gut the historic interior to make way for luxury condos.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, confused, as Christopher leads me towards the entrance, bypassing the construction barriers.
He smiles that devastating smile of his. “Just wanted to show you something.”
He uses a key card to let us inside. The lobby is dimly lit, covered in dust sheets, but themagnificent original marble floors and intricate plasterwork are still intact.
“They were going to tear it all out,” Christopher says quietly, gesturing around the grand space. “Turn it into cookie-cutter glass boxes. That seemed… wrong, somehow.”
“It would have been criminal,” I agree, running a hand over the cool marble railing of the grand staircase. “This place is a masterpiece.”
“I thought so, too,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out not a key card this time, but an old-fashioned, heavy brass key attached to a simple leather fob. He presses it into my hand. “Which is why I bought it.”
I stare at him, then at the key, then back at him. “You… you bought the Sterling-Hammond building?”
“Privately,” he confirms. “Through a shell corp unconnected to Blackwell Innovations. Before the developer could finalize his bid. Consider it… preserving a piece of history. And maybe,” his eyes soften as they meet mine, “a future project for Hammond & Co. to restore, when the time is right? Under its new CEO?”
Tears spring to my eyes. This isn’t just a gift. It’s… understanding.
