Chapter 9

The air in the quiet café buzzed with the murmur of conversation and the rhythmic hiss of the espresso machine. Elodie sat across from Northstar’s COO, Michael Coltrane. Michael, in his mid-forties, exuded an aura of quiet authority. His sharp features were softened by kind eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, while his well-tailored suit spoke of success without being flashy. ‘Miss Kellan,’ he began, his voice smooth and professional. ‘I confess, I thought your call was a prank when you requested this meeting. Everyone believed you had left the country after the tragedy.’ Elodie met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘I needed time to… Anyway, I’m ready now. I’m ready to come back and take my place at Northstar.’ Before this meeting, Elodie had meticulously studied Northstar’s personnel. She knew that many of the recent hires were friends and relatives of her uncles, Cyrus and Sebastian. These individuals, she reasoned, would never truly support her cause. Her choice of Michael was deliberate. He had been a close confidant of both her parents during their reign at Northstar. Her father, the former CEO, and her mother, the former chairwoman, had often sung praises about Michael’s intelligence and unwavering loyalty. The fact that he remained with the company for four years after their deaths spoke volumes about his character. Michael listened intently, his face a mask of thoughtful contemplation. ‘I understand your desire to carry on the legacy your parents built,’ he finally said. ‘But are you prepared for what lies ahead? Do you have a plan, a strategy in place?’ Elodie smiled. ‘I do, and I believe, with your help, we can reclaim what rightfully belongs to me.’ She tapped on her tablet and turned the screen towards Michael. ‘I hold a 44% stake in Northstar, inherited from my parents. There should have been more. Unfortunately, some of those shares have found their way into other hands.’ Michael raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you need me to give you a breakdown of the current ownership structure?’ ‘No need. I have them.’ Elodie showed him another file, compiled by her last night. ‘Eighteen per cent is currently held by my uncles, Cyrus and Sebastian, and their family. An additional twelve per cent is scattered amongst their friends and associates. The remaining shares are held by a combination of independent investors and small shareholders.’ Michael steepled his fingers, a frown creasing his brow. ‘Forty-four per cent is significant, Miss Kellan, but it’s not enough for a majority vote. The board of directors is currently stacked with individuals loyal to your uncles, making your return quite challenging.’ ‘I understand the situation. That’s why I need your help. Tell me more about the current CEO, Mr....’ Michael sighed, his disdain for the man evident in his voice. ‘Reginald Tierney, or Reggie the Wrecker, as his staff prefer to call him, is nothing more than a puppet for Cyrus and Sebastian. He lacks the vision and leadership necessary to truly steer Northstar forward.’ Elodie leaned back, her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have access to the company’s latest financial statements?’ Michael hesitated. ‘Those are internal documents, Miss Kellan, highly confidential.’ Elodie met his gaze directly. ‘As a shareholder, I have the right to access such information. It’s crucial for me to understand the company’s financial health before I can formulate any concrete plans.’ Michael studied her for a moment, his apprehension slowly giving way to a grudging respect. ‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll have someone prepare a comprehensive report for you. It will be delivered to you soon.’ A flicker of satisfaction crossed Elodie’s face. Michael then launched into a detailed overview of Northstar’s current state, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and resignation. ‘It’s a dire situation, Miss Kellan. All four divisions - real estate, hospitality, fashion, and finance - are haemorrhaging money due to Cyrus and Sebastian’s mismanagement.’ He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. ‘Those two wouldn’t know a balance sheet from a grocery list. Cyrus, at least, tries to understand the business, but Sebastian...well, he’s just a puppet, dancing to the tune of whichever boss he happens to be listening to at the moment—that would be either his big brother Cyrus or his wife.’ Elodie listened intently, her eyes hardening with each piece of information. ‘Don’t worry, Michael,’ she said confidently. ‘Their days are numbered. I’ll need you to help me set up a meeting with the minority shareholders who aren’t affiliated with Cyrus and Sebastian.’ ‘You’re planning to buy out their shares?’ ‘Yes, and I have a way to buy out the shares from my uncles as well.’ A flicker of unease crossed Michael’s face, momentarily erasing his usual calm demeanour. ‘But Miss Kellan,’ he stammered, ‘your uncles wouldn’t agree to sell their shares so easily.’ Elodie’s smile widened, a touch of steel creeping into her voice. ‘Oh, they will,’ she assured him. ‘After all, they have a penchant for making...unfortunate investments. And I just happen to know of one such investment that’s about to go south in a spectacular fashion.’ Michael’s eyes darted away, a brief flash of disquiet betraying his outward composure. He quickly cleared his throat, forcing a smile. ‘I’m sure you have everything under control, Miss Kellan. I’ll do my best to assist you with the meetings and any other way I can.’ *** Michael acted fast. Hours after their morning meeting, Elodie heard a knock at the door. She was alone in the house—Gabriel had left for his neurosurgery consult. Through the peephole, she saw a young man, early 30s, with a friendly smile and an air of nervous anticipation. He introduced himself as Christopher Young, Michael Coltrane’s executive assistant, and explained his purpose: to deliver Northstar’s financial statements. Elodie opened the door and took in his appearance. Despite his boyish charm and slightly shy demeanour, there was a quiet competence in his eyes and a meticulous neatness in his attire that hinted at keen attention to detail, characteristics undoubtedly essential for the COO’s right-hand man. ‘Please, come in,’ she invited. ‘Would you like some coffee?’