Chapter Seventy Eight
Chapter Seventy Eight
The atmosphere in the boardroom slowly began to ease after the vote was taken. Harriet said nothing more. She packed up her documents with trembling hands and walked out of the room without looking back. But Arion knew very well—she wouldn’t give up that easily.
Once the door closed, Arion looked at the remaining board members, each wearing a different expression. Some looked satisfied, others anxious about the possible consequences. Arion stood and spoke calmly, his voice clear in the silence of the room.
“I thank you for the trust you've placed in me tonight. But the fight isn’t over. Philippe Vasseur remains a threat, and we must ensure that his network of influence is entirely removed from McCallen Hotels.”
Monroe nodded. “What’s the next step?”
“The audit team will begin investigating all transactions under Harriet’s leadership. In the meantime, I’d like the board to appoint an independent supervisor to oversee the process.”
Bennett Hale raised his hand. “I agree. The integrity of this company must be preserved, especially in the eyes of international investors.”
Elaine Cortez added, “I can recommend two candidates from international firms with no conflicts of interest. I’ll send the list tonight.”
The meeting adjourned an hour later. Arion stepped out of the building with a deep breath. Rain had started to fall lightly, and the city lights of London reflected off the wet asphalt. Simon followed close behind, draping a coat over Arion’s shoulders.
“You won the battle tonight,” Simon said.
“Yes,” Arion replied, his voice heavy. “But the war isn’t over.”
The next morning, news of Harriet’s suspension spread quickly. Business media outlets ran headlines like “Internal Purge in the McCallen Empire” and “Arion McCallen Shakes the Throne.” While the public speculated, investors quietly welcomed the change.
At headquarters, Arion resumed control of his main office. As he stepped inside, the entire staff stood to greet him. In their eyes, he saw a mixture of relief and renewed hope. He knew that trust had to be rebuilt—not only from shareholders, but from every part of the company long tarnished by internal conflict.
Hazel arrived that afternoon. She stood at the doorway, hesitant to enter without permission.
“You’re right on time,” Arion said without turning around, still focused on reading a legal report.
“I just wanted to know… has my document been verified?”
Arion set the report down and looked at her. “Yes. And they’re valid. You helped save this company, Hazel.”
Hazel’s expression softened, though her eyes still held back emotion. “I don’t need praise. I just wanted to do what’s right.”
Arion stood. For the first time in months, his voice softened just slightly. “And you have.”
Hazel was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted them. Simon entered, his face tense.
“There’s news from our security team in France. Philippe Vasseur was tracked to a rural area near Carcassonne. But by the time our team arrived, the house was empty.”
Arion clenched his fist. “Always one step ahead.”
“However,” Simon continued, “they found something important left behind.”
He pulled a small box from his bag and handed it to Arion.
Carefully, Arion opened the box. Inside was a silver ring engraved with an old McCallen crest—far older than the one currently used. Beneath it was a faded yellowed photo of a young woman holding a baby boy. On the back of the photo, a short sentence was written:
“For the one who was meant to inherit it all.”
Hazel stepped closer to examine the photo.
“Who is she?” she whispered.
Arion shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But I’m certain Philippe is hiding something bigger than just a corporate takeover.”
Simon nodded. “We’ll trace the origin of the ring and the woman’s identity. But it’s likely connected to the real Lucas… or someone once believed to be the rightful heir.”
Arion exhaled. “If that’s true… then this isn’t over. Philippe may be playing his final card—passing the claim to someone he’s been grooming for years.”
Hazel looked at Arion, concerned. “And if that person really exists?”
Arion stared out the window, the sky still gray beyond. “Then I’ll have to decide: protect the McCallen name… or uncover the whole truth, even if it means losing everything.”
Meanwhile, in a remote villa on the border of Italy and France, Philippe Vasseur sat before an old desk. In front of him stood a young man around twenty-five, stiff and silent.
“Your time is almost here,” Philippe said quietly, handing over a passport and a bundle of documents.
“Are you sure I’m ready?” the young man asked.
“With your face, your blood, and the name you’ll carry… they’ll have no reason to reject you.”
The young man opened the passport. His name: Aurelien McCallen.
Back in London, Arion received a report from the digital investigation team.
“We traced the origin of the forged documents Harriet used. One name keeps coming up: Darvin & Cloutier has a secret branch in Monte Carlo, directly affiliated with the shell companies Philippe used.”
Arion stood. “Prepare the jet. We’re going to Monte Carlo.”
Simon looked at him. “You’re going personally?”
“Yes. If my enemy moves in the shadows, then I must fight where he hides.”
Hazel, who had overheard, stepped forward. “I’m coming with you.”
Arion turned. “Hazel, this is dangerous.”
“I’ve stayed silent long enough. If this is about saving McCallen, I won’t stay behind again.”
After a brief pause, Arion nodded.
“Alright. We leave tomorrow morning.”