Chapter 8 - The Reorganization
By nine o'clock that morning, the grand library of the estate had been converted into a corporate war room.
The heavy mahogany table, which usually held whiskey decanters and cigars, was covered in forensic laptops, financial binders, and secure satellite phones.
Hannah sat at the head of the table. She wore her reading glasses, her hair tied back in a loose clip, a mug of hot coffee steaming near her elbow. Sitting around the table were the senior board members, executives, and legal advisors of the Duca enterprise—men who had previously looked down on her as a domestic afterthought.
Now, they hung on her every word.
"The audit of Duca Logistics is complete," Hannah announced, her voice precise and authoritative as she gestured toward the main screen on the wall. "Nicholas Vale's embezzlement extended across four subsidiary companies. Total capital diverted over thirty-six months: twenty-two point four million dollars."
Uncle Marcus gasped, rubbing his temples. "Twenty-two million... Jesus Christ. How did the external auditors miss this?"
"Because Nicholas was using a classic double-entry shell system based in Panama," Hannah explained smoothly, tapping a key to bring up a flowchart. "He was masking the shortfalls by altering the shipping fuel receipts from our European divisions. It was clever, but mathematically unsustainable."
"What is the status of the asset recovery?" asked Julian cautiously, looking at Hannah with deep respect.
"Complete," Hannah replied. "As of seven AM, Nicholas signed over his equity shares in Duca Construction, his high-rise apartment in Gold Coast, his yacht, and his offshore accounts. We have recovered eighteen point six million dollars. The remaining four million will be offset by liquidating his commercial real estate holdings in Florida."
She looked around the table, her dark eyes locking onto each board member in turn.
"The foundation is fully restored," Hannah continued. "And as of this morning, I have restructured the internal oversight protocols. No single executive—including Roman—will have unilateral wire authority over eight million dollars without dual cryptographic verification through my office."
The men around the table nodded frantically, agreeing without a single objection.
"Are there any questions?" Hannah asked calmly.
Silence filled the room.
"Good," Hannah said, closing her leather binder with a satisfying snap. "Meeting adjourned. Go back to your divisions and fix your balance sheets."
The executives practically scrambled out of their chairs, gathering their papers and exiting the library with polite murmurs of "Thank you, Mrs. Duca," and "Excellent work, ma'am."
Within three minutes, the library was empty, save for Roman, who had been leaning against the bookshelves near the fireplace, quietly watching his wife command the room.
He walked over to the head of the table, resting his hands on the back of her chair. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss against her neck.
"You are incredible," Roman murmured. "Marcus looked like he was about to pass out when you mentioned the Panama accounts."
Hannah leaned her head back against his chest, smiling softly as she took off her reading glasses. "Marcus was hiding two hundred thousand dollars in undeclared travel expenses from last year's budget. I decided to let him off with a warning."
Roman laughed softly, his thumb caressing her jawline. "You're too merciful."
"I’m strategic, Roman," she corrected, turning her head to kiss his cheek. "A terrified board member works hard. A ruined board member becomes a liability."
May you like
Roman looked down at her with infinite pride, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her up out of the chair and into his arms. "Have I mentioned today how glad I am that I married you?"
"Not since eight AM," she teased softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're slacking."
