Chapter 7 - The Restructuring of Whitmore FreightBack at the Whitmore Freight Tower, the atmosphere on the thirty-second floor was the exact opposite of despair—it was a masterclass in renewal.
With Naomi Price overseeing the legal fallout and Chief Security Officer Henderson securing the structural perimeters, the executive committee spent Thursday morning rolling out a comprehensive corporate restructuring plan.
I sat at the head of the teak boardroom table, listening to the logistics directors present their regional Q4 forecasts.
“With Evan’s phantom vendor accounts purged from the ledger, our operating margin has instantly recovered by 4.2 percent,” reported Marcus Vance, the head of internal logistics, pointing to a sharp upward spike on the digital wall display. “Furthermore, three major shipping contracts that Evan nearly botched with his erratic deal-making have been successfully renegotiated under your direct supervision.”
I nodded, making a small note in my leather-bound portfolio.
“Make sure the logistics team prioritizes our union driver bonuses this quarter,” I instructed quietly. “For six years, while Evan was spending corporate funds on luxury leases and shell companies, the men and women driving our trucks were told we had no budget for safety upgrades. Fix that by Monday.”
“Right away, Madam Chair,” Vance said, smiling warmly.
When the meeting adjourned at noon, Naomi stayed behind as the other directors filed out of the room. She closed the heavy mahogany doors and walked over to the edge of the table, holding a manila folder stamped with the seal of the state attorney general’s office.
“The state prosecutor just reached out to my office,” Naomi said, sliding the folder across the table. “They’re officially preparing criminal indictments against Evan and Barbara for corporate wire fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit mail fraud via the Apex Horizon Consulting shell company.”
I opened the folder, scanning the preliminary charges. The statutory penalties carried up to fifteen years in federal prison.
“Is there any plea bargain on the table?” I asked.
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“Only if they cooperate fully and return every single asset purchased with corporate funds,” Naomi replied. “Though knowing Barbara, she’ll probably try to sue the judge for defamation.”
“Let her try,” I said coldly, closing the folder. “Justice doesn't negotiate with grifters.”
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