Chapter 38 #2
“We’re here to discuss the Keystone Financial acquisition we previously approved as a board and discuss my order to halt the completion of the sale.
Zane,” I say, pointing to my business partner, who looks florid, “thinks we should not only move forward, but also accelerate the timeline. I believe the opposite is in the best interests of the company. This brings us to now: where Zane has called a vote of no-confidence in my ability to effectively run this company.”
I lock eyes with each person at the table, ending with Zane.
“The company I built. The company that is my vision, my blood, sweat, and tears.” I let the words land, and Zane rolls his eyes.
“No one here is suggesting you haven’t put in a Herculean amount of work, Liv. The issue at hand is your ability to run this company with all the…changes you’ve experienced lately. These events are clouding your judgment.”
He says this with such fake sympathy, I almost want to laugh, but I restrain myself.
“Let’s talk about judgment, shall we? Gentlemen, if you’ll please turn to the second page of the packet in front of you,” I say, pausing as they all look at each other and slowly turn the pages. Trance is the first person to speak up.
“What the hell? Is this?—”
“Documentation showing how Keystone Financial funds human trafficking and the drug and arms trade? Yes, it is,” I say placidly. Trance’s gaze snaps up to me.
“How’d you get this information?” he asks, blinking fast.
“I did my research and looked past the things they wanted us to see,” I say, locking eyes with Zane, who blanches. “I looked past the things you wanted me to see, Zane.”
I look around the room. Trance looks beyond upset, and Jaime and Ralph share similarly horrified looks.
“How do we know this is factual?” Ralph says, looking at me hard and then slowly turning to face Zane.
“Great question, Ralph,” I say, and Melissa appears at my elbow with a stack of red envelopes. She hands one to me and then moves around the room to place one in front of each member.
“Gentlemen, inside you’ll find a 68-page dossier cross-referencing Keystone Financial’s shadow subsidiaries with shell corporations involved in laundering cartel funds and trafficking routes between Morocco, Portugal, and the Port of Houston.
We’ve included offshore banking data, proxy shareholder names, and encrypted chat logs extracted from a corrupted internal server leak,” I say while Melissa hands out the proof. When she’s done, I nod at her.
“I had the information cross-checked by a forensic accounting firm to verify the findings,” Melissa says, her back straight. “Their reports are attached as well.”
“Well, that solves that,” Trance says, throwing his folder on the table in disgust. “If even a quarter of this is true, I’m out.”
Ralph and Jaime share a look before giving me their attention.
“We must delay the vote while we investigate this matter,” Jaime says. I splay my hands out like that Oprah meme.
“Of course,” I say. “But this issue isn’t even the most pressing one. The most critical development has to do with Zane Gibson.”
I have everyone’s attention now.
“Zane,” I say, leaning forward on the table and resting my weight on my palms. “Please explain to the board why $6.2 million worth of grants earmarked for several of the organizations we work with never made it to their accounts? Can you further explain how this money was owed to them, but they had no clue the funds even existed?”
Silence falls over the room.
“Can you further explain how these bank statements—” I slide papers across the table at him. “These IP logs—” I slide another stack. “And these signed memos and invoices to companies that ‘don’t exist’ all connect to you?”
I slide over the last stack of papers and wait.
Zane stammers.
“I don’t know where you got this information, but you need to check your sources. All of this is false,” he says, and I remain still, staring at him.
“This is a smear campaign. You’re letting your personal issues cloud your judgment, Liv,” he hisses, but I continue to stare.
“C’mon! Ralph, Jaime, you know me ,” he shouts.
Ralph mutters, “Jesus, Zane,” so low it’s easy to miss, and Jaime cracks his neck from side to side. By the way his body sways, I know he’s bobbing his leg up and down beneath the table.
After a long, awkward moment, I tilt my head and say, “That’s the angle you’re going to work, Zane?” I shake my head. “I don’t know why, but I expected better of you.”
“Listen, Liv?—”
“No, you listen!” I hiss, straightening to my full height, and with my heels and my rage, I feel about six feet tall.
Zane stands, vibrating.
“I built Orisun to serve the people we were once told had no place in this economy. I will not let it become a front for greed, white-collar theft, or backroom deals. So let me make myself clear: If this board proceeds with the Keystone acquisition, and Zane’s name remains attached to this company, I will be legally obligated to report it to the SEC and DOJ. ”
Zane places his palms flat on the table, giving me a menacing look. Right now, he glares at me as if he wants to kill me where I stand.
Thing is, he never should have fucked with me.
“Furthermore, I have a packet ready to go to ProPublica and Bloomberg. If you don’t do what’s right, I will. And I don’t care if I have to burn my brainchild to the ground to do so.”
Trance nods and releases a quiet sigh.
“Zane, the proof you gave the board regarding Liv was tenuous at best. But this?” He lifts all the papers as if weighing them, then drops them to the table where they flutter like leaves.
“I propose a vote to suspend Zane Gibson from all organizational activities pending a third-party investigation,” Trance says.
“Seconded,” I add smoothly. “What will your vote be, gentlemen?” I pin an icy glare on Jaime and Ralph.
“I vote to suspend,” Jaime murmurs, avoiding Zane’s gaze. Ralph pins my business partner—ex-business partner—with a hard glare.
“I’m disappointed in you, Zane,” he says.
Zane gets even more pale and looks like he might throw up.
Turning to me, Ralph says, “I vote to suspend as well.”
“Well, that’s settled. Melissa, do you have this down in the board notes?” I ask. Melissa taps on her iPad.
“All recorded,” she says.
Zane doesn’t blow up, nor does he deliver any scathing words. With quiet, resigned fury, he straightens his suit jacket and leaves the conference room.