Chapter Seventy Four

Chapter Seventy Four
That night, the sky over London was gray, cloaked in heavy clouds as if mirroring Arion’s mood. In his grand study, surrounded by shelves filled with family documents and the company’s history, Arion stared at the pages of reports just handed to him by Simon. The name “Philippe Vasseur” was bolded across the top, like a toxin spreading silently through the veins of McCallen Hotels' power structure.

“I need to know how deeply Harriet is involved,” Arion said as he gazed into the flickering fireplace. “Is she just a pawn, or has she started playing her own game?”

Simon stood by the window, watching the drizzle begin to fall. “She may not be the main player, but she knows how to use the board. Harriet is smart, slippery, and she knows when to gamble.”

Arion nodded slowly. “Then we need a bolder move.”

Simon turned toward him. “What are you planning?”

“The executive conference next week. I’m calling a shareholders’ meeting—without Harriet’s knowledge. I’ll present a plan to restructure the board of directors. But before that, I need hard evidence of Philippe and Harriet’s connection. Something they can’t deny.”

Simon stepped closer, his voice lowering. “There’s one person who might help. Someone from Philippe’s past. A shadow lawyer who used to work with him before vanishing off the radar. His name is Marcel Druet. Rumor has it he’s now living in Nice, disguised as a tax consultant.”

“Find him,” Arion said firmly. “And make sure he talks.”

The next day, Arion donned his signature dark suit and entered a hidden conference room on the lower floor of McCallen Tower. Two middle-aged men were already waiting—Laurence Everly and Bernard Kross, long-serving board members still loyal to the conservative McCallen family values.

“You look just like your father when he was angry,” Bernard said with a faint smirk. “What’s made you call us here so secretly, Arion?”

Arion didn’t respond immediately. He pulled out a tablet and began showing slides—secret transactions between shell companies linked to Philippe’s name, along with appointment letters signed by Harriet in recent weeks.

“I assume you haven’t seen this yet,” he said coldly. “Philippe Vasseur isn’t just an advisor. He’s building a new structure behind the scenes. Harriet is his bridge into McCallen Hotels.”

Laurence frowned. “And you want to take them down?”

“Not just take them down,” Arion replied. “I want to cleanse the entire board of outside influence. We need loyalty, not opportunism.”

Bernard crossed his arms. “If what you’re saying is true, this isn’t just a power struggle. It’s betrayal.”

Arion stared them down. “I hope you still hold your oath to this family. Because if not, by tomorrow, you’ll be part of the problem—not the solution.”

They were silent for a few moments, then both nodded slowly. “You have our support,” said Laurence. “But know this—this move will start a war.”

Arion gave a faint smile. “Then let the war begin.”

Meanwhile, in the east wing of McCallen Manor, Harriet stood on a balcony, a phone pressed to her ear. Her voice was soft, but dangerous.

“He’s starting to figure us out,” she said to someone on the line. “And he’s already swayed two board members to his side.”

A low chuckle came from the other end. “Not surprising. Arion’s too sentimental.”

“He’s not stupid,” Harriet replied. “We need to move faster. Have you spoken to the bank in Zurich?”

“Yes. Funds are secure. If everything goes to plan, we can shift all assets before he gets a court order.”

Harriet smirked. “Good. By the time he realizes, McCallen Hotels will no longer be his.”

Two days later, Simon returned from France with news.

“Marcel Druet is willing to talk. But only if we guarantee his safety.”

Arion stared at him. “He’s afraid of Philippe?”

“More than that. He says there’s something far darker behind Philippe’s business structure. And he won’t show up unless we meet at a neutral location.”

Arion stood up. “Get the jet ready. We’re flying to Nice tonight.”

Nice, France.

The small café on the city’s outskirts looked ordinary, but Arion knew many eyes were watching. He sat in a corner seat, wearing dark sunglasses and a long coat. Simon sat across from him, and soon, a gaunt-faced older man entered and sat without a word.

“Marcel Druet?” Arion asked quietly.

The man nodded, his hands shaking as he pulled out a small flash drive. “Inside this are contracts, email correspondence, and transaction records. Philippe used a network of shell companies to launder money from various illegal ventures—including funding corporate coups in three major European firms.”

Arion narrowed his eyes. “And Harriet?”

“She knows everything. In fact, she signed the first asset transfer. But she’s clever. Nothing bears her name directly—only proxies.”

Simon carefully took the flash drive. “Why give this to us?”

Marcel lowered his gaze. “Because I want my life back. I’ve lived in Philippe’s shadow for too long. And if you can bring him down… maybe I can finally sleep.”

Back in London, Arion stared out the window of headquarters. The flash drive was now in the hands of his legal team. Simon stood beside him, giving an update.

“Two more board members have pledged their support. And the documents from Marcel are strong enough to initiate an internal investigation.”

Arion nodded. “Good. Schedule an extraordinary shareholders’ meeting three days from now. It ends then.”

Simon looked at him. “And Harriet?”

Arion turned, his gaze ice-cold. “She’ll be there. I want her to hear it herself.”

The day of the meeting arrived.

The main conference room of McCallen Hotels was tense. Board members sat in rows—some holding thick dossiers, others staring straight ahead. Harriet sat on the right, dressed in a deep burgundy gown, her smile calm but her eyes sharp.

Arion stood before a large screen and began his presentation. He outlined the company’s financial structure, then revealed Marcel’s recordings, documents, and financial trails that led to entities controlled by Philippe.

When the final slide showed a network diagram connecting Harriet to the shell companies, silence fell over the room.

Harriet was still smiling, but her fingers clenched over the table.

“This is slander,” she said at last. “There’s no direct evidence.”

Arion stepped closer. “You’re wrong. The evidence you thought didn’t exist is now in the hands of the investigative committee. And if necessary, we’ll take this to court.”

One board member stood. “I support freezing Harriet’s position pending investigation.”

Another followed. “Agreed. And Philippe Vasseur should be barred from any advisory role in the company.”

Slowly but surely, voices of support echoed throughout the room. Harriet stood up, her face pale.

“You won’t get away with this,” she hissed.

Arion looked at her coldly. “I’m not getting away with anything. I’m taking back what was rightfully mine.”