Chapter 8: The Boardroom Massacre
The emergency board meeting at Rossi Enterprises was less of a corporate gathering and more of a hostage situation.
Victor Rossi stood at the head of the massive oak conference table, sweat visibly beading on his forehead. His board of directors, usually a complacent group of highly-paid executives, were in full-blown panic mode. Phones were ringing off the hooks. Red lines plunged on the financial monitors lining the walls.
“We need an injunction!” shouted the CFO, slamming his hands on the table. “Thorne Industries just initiated a hostile takeover of our main manufacturing plants in Taiwan! They’ve frozen our supply chain!”
“How is that even legal?” another board member yelled.
“When you have Marcus Thorne’s checkbook, the law is just a suggestion!” Victor barked back, rubbing his temples. “Call the senators we have on retainer. Call the SEC. We need to stall him!”
Suddenly, the double doors of the boardroom were thrown open.
The room fell dead silent. Two massive private security guards stepped inside, followed immediately by Marcus Thorne.
Marcus wasn’t wearing his usual perfectly tailored suit. He wore black slacks and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the dark, bruised knuckles on his right hand. He looked feral, exhausted, and incredibly dangerous. Behind him flanked his legal team, carrying thick briefcases.
“Mr. Thorne,” Victor stammered, his bravado entirely evaporating. “You… you can’t just walk in here.”
“I own the building, Victor,” Marcus said, his voice quiet but carrying perfectly through the silent room. He walked slowly around the table, a shark circling its prey. “I bought the commercial mortgage an hour ago. Technically, you are trespassing on my property.”
The board members exchanged terrified glances.
“Marcus, listen to me,” Victor pleaded, holding up his hands. “I disowned her. I cut Isabella off entirely. You saw the press release. I had nothing to do with what she did to Khloe. We are businessmen. Let’s talk about this rationally.”
Marcus stopped moving. He turned his head slowly, locking eyes with Victor.
“My wife is lying in a hospital bed in our penthouse,” Marcus said, his tone devoid of any emotion. “She is hooked up to monitors because your daughter kicked her in the stomach and nearly killed my unborn child. Do not speak to me about rationality.”
He snapped his fingers. His lead attorney pulled a stack of thick legal documents from a briefcase and slammed them onto the table.
“Here is what is going to happen,” Marcus announced, looking at the cowering board of directors. “Rossi Enterprises is dead. I have bought your debts. I have bought your supply chains. I have bought this building. You have exactly ten minutes to sign over all remaining voting shares to Thorne Industries for pennies on the dollar.”
“And if we don’t?” the CFO asked, his voice shaking.
Marcus leaned over the table, planting his hands flat against the wood. “If you don’t sign, I will bankrupt you. Not just the company. You, personally. I will unleash a fleet of forensic accountants to dig into every offshore account, every tax loophole, and every mistress you have ever hidden money with. I will ensure every single one of you dies in federal prison. Sign the papers.”
No one argued. The silence was absolute as pens were hastily uncapped.
Victor Rossi stared at the documents, his hands trembling. Thirty years of work, gone in a single afternoon. He looked up at Marcus, tears of humiliation shining in his eyes.
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“You’re a monster,” Victor whispered as he signed his name on the dotted line, officially erasing his family from the billionaire rankings.
“I used to be a businessman,” Marcus corrected coldly, picking up the signed contract. “Your daughter turned me into a monster. Tell her I said thank you.”
