Chapter 5 - The Board Meeting Where The Rats Turned On Each Other
The second emergency board meeting was held at 9 a.m. the next day, this time in a secure conference room at Mia’s law firm, with two FBI agents sitting in the back, taking notes, and Lila Marquez sitting beside me, flanked by two bodyguards. Roderick arrived in a tailored navy suit, his face composed, like he hadn’t spent the last 24 hours scrambling to destroy evidence. Priscilla was with him this time, wearing a black Chanel suit and oversized sunglasses, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Brad, Liam, and Jenna followed close behind, their faces pale, their hands stuffed in their pockets like they were already reaching for their resignation letters. Harold Greer and Marisol Torres were the last to arrive, Harold muttering about “unnecessary drama,” Marisol avoiding my gaze.
I stood up as soon as the door closed, sliding a thick binder of evidence across the table to each board member: the microSD emails, the receipt trail, the yacht photos, the list of cut hospital budgets, and a blown-up photo of Roderick’s phoenix cufflink next to the Phoenix Global logo. “Let’s cut the crap,” I said, my voice echoing off the walls. “We all know what’s been going on here. For three years, Roderick, Priscilla, Brad, Liam, and Jenna stole $78 million from Vanguard, from our hospital partners, from sick kids and low-income families who depended on us to deliver their meds. And Commissioner Mendez took kickbacks to look the other way.”
Roderick laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “This is all circumstantial. A cufflink? Emails from a hacked account? You’ll never get a jury to convict—”
“Play the recording, Mia,” I said.
Mia hit play on her laptop. It was the conversation Lila had recorded with a hidden wire two days before, when Roderick had cornered her in the Vanguard parking garage, his voice low and threatening: “If you talk to Vivian Ellison, your mom gets deported back to Cuba before the sun sets. And don’t think the feds will protect you—half of them owe me favors. You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll give you $50k and a promotion. You talk, and you and your mom end up in a ditch off the Turnpike. Got it?”
The room went dead silent. The FBI agents in the back wrote furiously in their notebooks. Roderick’s face lost all color. Priscilla’s sunglasses slipped down her nose, revealing wide, terrified eyes. Brad, Liam, and Jenna looked at each other, and then the rats started to desert the sinking ship.
“I didn’t know it was that bad!” Brad blurted out, pointing at Roderick. “He told me the kickbacks were legal consulting fees! I never would’ve taken the money if I knew it was coming from hospital budgets!”
“Bullshit!” Jenna yelled back. “You were the one who suggested cutting the rural clinics! You said they were ‘low-priority’!”
“Roderick made us do it!” Liam added, his voice cracking. “He said if we didn’t go along, he’d plant drugs in our cars and get us arrested! I have a wife and two kids! I had no choice!”
Priscilla turned on Roderick, screaming, “You told me the company could afford it! You said no one would ever find out! I’m not going to jail for your stupid fraud! I’ll tell the feds everything—about the kickbacks, the yacht, the time you bribed the state inspector! I’ll take a plea deal!”
Roderick lunged across the table at her, but the FBI agents were on their feet in a second, pulling him back, reading him his Miranda rights. “Roderick Pembroke, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit wire fraud, embezzlement, extortion, and manslaughter in the death of Sofia Marquez.” They cuffed his hands behind his back, leading him out of the room, while Priscilla sat there sobbing, her perfect hair falling in her face, as the agents handed her a warrant for her arrest too.
Brad, Liam, and Jenna were next. The agents cuffed them, reading them their rights, while they babbled about plea deals and cooperating. Marisol Torres stood up, her face ashen, and handed me her resignation letter. “I knew something was wrong,” she said, her voice quiet. “I was scared to speak up. I’m sorry. I’ll cooperate fully with the investigation.” Harold Greer shook his head, staring at the evidence binder in front of him. “Your dad would’ve never let this happen,” he said to me. “I should’ve paid closer attention. I’m resigning too.”
By 10 a.m., the room was empty except for me, Mia, Lila, Javier, and the two FBI agents. One of the agents, a woman named Agent Sanchez, shook my hand. “This is one of the biggest corporate fraud cases in Florida history,” she said. “With Lila’s testimony and the evidence you’ve gathered, we’ll have convictions within six months. And Commissioner Mendez is already in custody—we picked him up an hour ago.”
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Lila cried then, happy tears this time, and I hugged her tight. Outside, Zoey was waiting in the hallway with her nanny, holding a sign she’d made with glitter glue: GOOD JOB MOMMY! MEAN PEOPLE ARE IN TIME OUT! She ran over to me, holding up a drawing of Roderick and Priscilla in a jail cell, wearing black and white stripes, with a big red X over their faces. “Sparkles says they have to stay there forever,” she said, grinning.
I looked down at her, at the glitter on her cheeks, the sign in her hands, and thought about how far we’d come in five days: from being humiliated in a gala ballroom to taking down a $78 million fraud ring, putting six people in jail, and getting justice for Sofia Marquez. It wasn’t over yet—there would be trials, plea deals, months of court appearances—but we’d won the first big battle. And as I carried Zoey out of the law firm, the Miami sun warm on our faces, I knew my dad would’ve been proud. He’d built Vanguard to help people, not to line the pockets of greedy executives. And I was gonna make sure his legacy was restored—one honest decision at a time.
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