Chapter 5
JULIAN
That evening…
Alexander is seated at the far end of the boardroom table. He is dressed, as always, in a sharp, expensive suit, his posture carefully arranged to project confidence.
He looks like a man who’s already won and simply needs to take care of this little formality.
That’s part of his gift—embodying the outcome he wants until people start to believe it.
The rest of the seats are occupied by the board, men and women who may or may not be against me.
It’s time to find out.
The floor of the room is Italian marble, the floor-to-ceiling windows look out over Manhattan as the sun sets. The east wall is bare, aside from a towering portrait of my father, who no one here deserves to sit beneath.
I stand at the head of the table for several long moments, letting the silence do the work.
Finally someone cracks.
“Julian,” says Gerald Marsh, chief legal counsel. He’s been with this company since my father founded it, and he has survived on his ability to read rooms. “Alexander has raised some very valid procedural concerns regarding the transition of—”
“I know what Alexander has raised.” I look at my brother.
He holds my gaze, a slight smirk on his face.
Good. I want him to pay close attention.
“Let me be clear about what’s happening today, so there is no confusion going forward.
Alexander was given interim control over the company while I managed affairs overseas. Now I’m back. Let’s get right to it.”
I open the folder Ethan prepared and lay three documents on the table. The attendees all collectively lean forward.
“The first document is my father’s succession directive. As you all know, it names me as CEO with Alexander’s role as interim CEO, should I ever be absent. Let me repeat—interim. I was gone for a period of time, but now I’m back and will continue my role as CEO, per my father’s own words.”
I push it toward Gerald, and he gives it a once-over. He knows what it says—he’s the one who drafted it over a decade ago.
“Document two—a performance audit of the company over the last thirty-six months—Alexander’s reign.
It was conducted by an independent forensic accounting agency I retained four months ago.
” I let that part hang in the air for a bit, letting everyone understand that I have been planning my return for a while now, longer than they’d guessed.
I go on.
“The summary is on page three, but I’ll save you all the trouble.
Revenue is down, and three major donor relationships have been terminated due to mismanagement.
The Irina Volkov Foundation’s financial endowment has been raided like a goddamn piggy bank.
Among the pilfering—a corporate retreat in Monaco. ”
Alexander’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t speak. It’s the first smart thing he’s done in days.
“And the final document.” I place the last page on the table.
“A signed affidavit from the company’s compliance officer, confirming that during Alexander’s tenure, Volkov Industries failed to file proper regulatory review on 90 percent of our transactions.
Now, I’m sure that I don’t need to explain what happens when regulatory agencies catch wind of this sort of thing.
It brings unwanted attention, investigations. You all get the idea.”
I look at each of them in turn. Most of them look scared and unsettled. They should be.
“Gentlemen, let me explain something that you seem to have forgotten in my absence.” I lower my voice, and everyone in the room leans forward.
“This company exists because my father built it. My father built it because the Volkov Bratva needed a legitimate front for operations that keep all of you paid… and breathing.”
The word Bratva lands like a bomb. Nobody says it in a boardroom like this. That’s the whole point—the corporate layer exists so men like Gerald can go home at night and tell themselves they work for a holding company, not the legal layer of a criminal syndicate.
But today, they need a reality check.
"Every shipping route, every import license, every real estate holding in this portfolio connects back to a network that my father spent forty years constructing, and that I have spent the last three years defending—personally, at considerable risk—in places none of you would survive for a week.
" I pause. "Alexander, during that same period, was busy spending hard-earned money on yacht parties and fumbling donor relations. "
“That’s not—” Alexander starts.
“I’m not finished.”
He clamps his mouth shut.
“This board meeting was called to challenge my reinstatement. Fine. Voting on such matters is proper protocol, so let’s have a vote.
But understand what you’re voting on. You’re not choosing between two equal-but-different management styles, you’re choosing between the man who helped build and maintain this company’s actual revenue streams and the man who treats this company like his personal checking account. ”
The room is silent.
“I challenge any of you to try some power play bullshit and pass it off as corporate protocol. Go ahead, try it. But before you do, I encourage you to remember who you really work for. Don’t be fooled by this tower, our benefits package, or any of those corporate trappings.
This isn’t just a company. This is a family. And families have long histories.
More silence. Alexander glares at me, as if he’s well aware of how little say he has right now.
Gerald clears his throat. “I believe we have sufficient documentation to proceed with ratification. Do I have a motion?”
“So moved.” The voice belongs to my mother’s sister, Alaina, dialing in remotely. She’s been on this board for decades, and she doesn’t suffer fools.
“Seconded,” says David Park, head of operations. He doesn’t look at Alexander.
“All in favor.”
Nine hands go up. Alexander’s isn’t one of them, nor is my stepmother’s proxy vote, cast by her attorney, a slim man in a gray suit who’s been wisely staying quiet and unnoticeable.
“Motion carries,” says Gerald. “Julian Volkov is ratified as CEO, effective immediately.”
I look at Alexander. He sits very still, his jaw working, vein at his temple popping. He walked in here thinking he’d had everything lined up in his favor, only to quickly learn how weak he really is.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I say. “We’re done here.”