Chapter 4 - THE WOLF IN THE BOARDROOM
By the end of the week, Norah had traded her stained restaurant apron for a sharp, tailored pantsuit paid for by a company advance she hadn't asked for but couldn't refuse. Roman’s operations headquarters occupied the top two floors of a sleek glass skyscraper in downtown Chicago—officially registered as Castiglione Global Holdings, a shipping and logistics conglomerate.
Her first official day as Roman’s chief financial advisor sent shockwaves through the executive suite. Leo, the sweating accountant from Bistro Lara, sat at the end of a long glass conference table looking like he was facing a firing squad.
"This ledger is a disaster," Norah announced, slamming a thick binder down onto the mahogany surface. The executives flinched. She didn't care. She had spent seventy-two hours tearing apart their balance sheets, and the incompetence was staggering. "You're routing capital through three dummy corporations in the Caymans that haven't filed active tax returns in two years. If the IRS audits this quarter, we'll all be wearing orange jumpsuits by Thanksgiving."
"Listen here, young lady—" an older, gray-haired board member named Marcus started, slamming his hand on the table. "We’ve been running this firm before you were out of grade school. We don't take lectures from a temporary hire plucked off a diner floor."
Before Norah could formulate a response, the heavy double doors at the end of the conference room swung open. Roman stepped inside. The entire room instantly fell dead silent. He didn't look at Marcus. He walked straight to the head of the table, his pale gray eyes sweeping over the executives with icy contempt.
"Marcus," Roman said quietly, his voice dangerously soft. "She isn't a temporary hire. She is the only reason you aren't currently cellmates with a federal informant." He pulled out his chair and sat down, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "Miss Gallagher speaks for me. Anything she flags gets restructured, or you find a new line of work. Understood?"
Marcus swallowed hard, turning pale, and muttered a hasty agreement.
May you like
Norah met Roman’s gaze across the table. There was a strange, fierce pride burning in his eyes—not just as a boss watching his employee, but as a predator recognizing another apex hunter in the room. She turned back to the whiteboard, picking up a dry-erase marker.
"Now," Norah said sharply, turning off the noise in her head and focusing entirely on the numbers. "We are liquidating the warehouse front in Cicero. We are rolling those assets into our new cold-chain seafood distribution network in Wisconsin. And Marcus? Sit down and take notes. You're about to learn how to keep your freedom."
