Chapter 8 - The Final Proxy
The wail of the sirens shattered the heavy silence of the foyer. Flashing red and blue lights began to dance violently against the high arched windows, casting erratic shadows across Daniel’s pale, defeated face.
He lay beneath my heel, the fight completely drained from his body. The revelation that his entire life’s vendetta was built on a lie—that he had allied himself with his father’s true destroyer—had broken something fundamental inside him.
"You're lying," he whispered, staring at the wooden rosary in my hand. "You're lying to protect yourself."
"I don't need to lie to protect myself from you, Daniel," I said softly, stepping back and allowing Vance’s men to pull him roughly to his feet. "I have the proxy votes. I have the master cipher. And now, I have the police."
The heavy oak front doors burst open. Half a dozen armed police officers poured into the foyer, flashlights sweeping the room. Behind them walked two men in sharp, unassuming suits—federal agents.
"Margaret Greyson?" the lead agent asked, stepping forward.
"Yes, Agent Miller," I replied, smoothing my cardigan. "Thank you for arriving so promptly."
Daniel’s head snapped up. "You called the Feds? You told me you called private security!"
"I called both," I corrected him. "Security to protect my family. The FBI to protect my investment."
Agent Miller walked over to Daniel, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. "Daniel Rowe, you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, embezzlement, and corporate espionage. You have the right to remain silent."
As the cold steel clicked around his wrists, Daniel’s eyes darted frantically around the room. He looked at the executives huddled in the doorway of the dining room, watching their golden boy fall in real-time. He looked at Richard Hayes, who actively turned his back.
Finally, he looked at Emily.
"Em," Daniel pleaded, his voice cracking. "Em, please. Tell them I didn't mean to hurt you. Tell them it was an accident. I can fix this. I can fix the company."
Emily walked slowly toward him. She stood tall, her good hand resting protectively over her pregnant belly. She looked at the man who had terrorized her, belittled her, and used her as a pawn for years.
"You didn't break my arm by accident, Daniel," Emily said, her voice echoing clearly in the quiet foyer. "You broke it because you are small, weak, and terrified of the truth. You don't get to fix the company. And you don't get to be a part of this family."
She turned to Agent Miller. "I have the master cipher he wrote in his own handwriting. I will provide a full statement regarding his physical abuse and his attempts to forge my signature."
Daniel opened his mouth to argue, to spew one last venomous threat, but an officer firmly grabbed his shoulder and marched him out the front door into the flashing lights of the cruisers.
The remaining executives slowly filtered out of the dining room, looking shell-shocked.
Richard Hayes approached me, wiping sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Margaret. This is a disaster. The PR fallout... the stock price will plummet tomorrow when the markets open."
"The stock price will hold, Richard," I said, my tone brokering absolutely no argument. "Because tomorrow morning at nine a.m., Greyson Capital is releasing a press statement. We are exercising our proxy votes. Daniel Rowe is officially terminated. And I am stepping in as interim Chief Operating Officer to audit the firm."
Richard swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "Yes. Yes, of course, Margaret. Whatever you say."
"Good," I said. "Now, get out of my daughter's house."
As the executives scurried out into the night, the house finally began to quiet. The heavy front doors clicked shut, leaving only Emily, Leo, Vance’s team, and me in the foyer.
Leo tugged on my sleeve. I knelt down to his eye level.
"Is the bad man gone, Grandma?" Leo asked, his big eyes wide.
May you like
I smiled, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Yes, my brave boy. He is gone. And he is never, ever coming back."
I looked over his shoulder at Emily. She was leaning against the wall, weeping softly, not out of fear, but out of pure, unadulterated relief. The nightmare was finally over.
