Chapter 7 - The Penthouse Ledger
Twenty minutes later, Emily sat in the rear passenger seat of the armored black Escalade, wrapped in a plush, camel-hair cashmere overcoat that Gregory Sterling had personally draped over her shoulders.
The motorcade glided through the rain-drenched streets of Chicago, cutting effortlessly through traffic until it pulled beneath the grand, heated portico of the Vance-Sterling Tower on North Michigan Avenue.
A private elevator, activated by Walter’s retinal scan, carried them sixty-five floors into the sky in less than thirty seconds.
The penthouse was a cathedral of brushed steel, dark walnut, and panoramic glass walls overlooking the stormy expanse of Lake Michigan. In the center of the vast executive library sat a circular conference table carved from black marble, illuminated by a warm, recessed spotlight.
Waiting around the table were four senior partners from the city's most prestigious estate law firm, their briefcases open, surrounded by stacks of certified blue-backed legal documents.
Emily sat down in a deep leather executive chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She felt like an imposter—a twenty-four-year-old girl with flour beneath her fingernails and holes in her sneakers, suddenly sitting at the pinnacle of global wealth.
Walter sat directly to her right, while Gregory took the seat opposite them, keeping his hands flat on the marble.
"Emily," Walter began, sliding a leather-bound folio toward her. "Under the original partnership charter of 1994, your father held thirty-five percent of the voting equity in Sterling-Vance Bio-Tech. Because Julian forged the patent assignments after Thomas's death, that equity was illegally diluted into corporate treasury stock."
The lead attorney, an elderly woman with sharp gray eyes, cleared her throat and turned a page.
"We filed the judicial restitution motion in federal court three hours ago, Miss Ward," the attorney said crisply. "With Mr. Vance’s sworn deposition and Gregory Sterling’s formal confession of corporate concealment, the federal receivership has already executed the restitution order."
She placed a gold fountain pen beside Emily’s hand.
"As of midnight tonight, you are the controlling shareholder of Sterling Global Bio-Tech, holding thirty-five percent of all common voting stock, valued at approximately four point eight billion dollars. Additionally, the escrow accounts holding twelve years of accrued patent royalties—totaling six hundred and forty million dollars—have been transferred to a private trust under your sole name."
Emily stared at the paper. The numbers blurred before her eyes: 4,800,000,000.
Six hours ago, she had been worrying about a hundred-and-forty-dollar gas bill. She had been crying over a torn apron and a ruined plate of soup.
She looked up at Gregory Sterling, who was watching her with a mixture of shame and desperate hope.
"What happens to the company?" Emily asked, her voice steadying. "What happens to the medicine my father died to protect?"
Gregory swallowed hard. "The pediatric oncology drug—the one your father created—is currently entering Phase Three clinical trials. My father's board wanted to price it at eighty thousand dollars per treatment cycle. They wanted to maximize shareholder return."
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Gregory reached across the table, his eyes locking onto hers.
"You have the voting majority now, Emily. You decide the price. You decide who runs the board. You can fire me tonight, and no one in this room can stop you."
