Saintess's Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander novel Chapter 87

CHAPTER 87 PART 1

Hartford Group Boardroom – 4:15 PM

The boardroom was packed beyond capacity. Twenty-three people crowded around the massive conference table, with more standing against the walls-every Hartford family shareholder, every board member who smelled blood in the water, every vulture eager to watch the Sacred Saintess fall.

At the head of the table, Zachary Hartford sat in the chairman’s seat like an enthroned king, his aged face radiating vindictive satisfaction. Oliver’s wheelchair was positioned to his right, both legs in casts but his expression twisted with malicious glee.

Tessa Hartford stood near the window, her sharp features animated with spite as she addressed the assembled crowd. “Today, we finally put an end to this farce! Quinn Hartford and her worthless husband have brought nothing but disaster to this company. It’s time they learned their place-on the street where they belong!”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

“The Sacred Saintess,” Wesley Hartford sneered from his seat, “married so far beneath her station that she dragged us all down with her. Divine bloodline wasted on delusions of love!”

“And that nobody Steel,” another cousin chimed in, “actually thinks he can compete with real businessmen. The Brand Family learned the hard way what happens when trash tries to rise above its station!”

Zachary raised his hand for silence. “The facts are simple. Golden Eagle Group has prepared two billion dollars to crush Hartford Group’s stock. By tomorrow morning, our market value will be in freefall. Contracts are already being pulled. Investors are fleeing. And all because Quinn insisted on protecting that worthless son-in-law instead of accepting the Potter Family’s generous offer.”

“She chose a nobody over family,” Tessa spat. “Over legacy. Over everything our ancestors built!”

Oliver wheeled himself forward slightly. “I can’t wait to see her face when we strip that acting chairman title away. When she realizes that Saintess power means nothing in the real world. When she finally understands that marrying for love instead of power was the biggest mistake of her pathetic life!”

“And Steel?” Wesley laughed. “That arrogant bastard will be lucky if we let him sweep floors after today. Actually, no-we won’t even give him that dignity. He’ll be out on the street with nothing!”

The Hartford family’s laughter filled the boardroom-cruel, mocking, absolutely certain of their victory. They’d drained the company’s liquid assets. They’d made deals with the Potter Family. They’d positioned themselves to survive the coming storm while Quinn and Marcus drowned.

A secretary’s nervous voice came through the intercom: “Mr. Hartford, Ms. Quinn Hartford and Mr. Marcus Steel are here.”

“Send them in,” Zachary said with relish. “Let’s watch them squirm.”

The doors opened.

Quinn Hartford entered first, her cold indifference perfectly maintained despite the hostile atmosphere. She wore her tailored black suit like armor, her posture impeccable, her Sacred Saintess aura flickering faintly around her- nervous energy betrayed only to those with enhanced senses.

Marcus followed a step behind, his expression utterly calm, his dragon aura so carefully suppressed that it was almost invisible. But something in his presence-that predatory grace, that ancient confidence-made several family members instinctively shift in their seats.

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“Well, well,” Oliver sneered immediately. “The fallen Saintess and her pet nobody finally grace us with their presence. Come to beg for mercy before we throw you out?”

“Quinn, dear,” Tessa’s voice dripped false sympathy, “you can still salvage some dignity. Resign quietly. Divorce that worthless husband. Maybe just maybe-we’ll let you keep a small trust fund.”

Marcus ignored them all. His eyes locked onto Zachary Hartford sitting in the chairman’s seat.

“Get up,” Marcus said quietly.

The room fell silent. Several family members exchanged confused glances.

“Excuse me?” Zachary’s voice was incredulous. “Did you just order me to-”

“Get. Up.” Marcus’s voice carried an edge that made the air feel heavy. “That seat belongs to the acting chairman. Quinn Hartford. Not you.”

Zachary’s laugh was harsh and mocking. “Listen here, boy. I built this company! I’ve been chairman for thirty years! Some upstart nobody doesn’t get to tell me where to-”

Marcus moved.

With dragon-enhanced speed barely restrained to human levels, he crossed the distance in three strides, reached down, and lifted Zachary Hartford out of the chairman’s seat by his shoulders.

The old patriarch’s protest died in his throat as he felt the inhuman strength in Marcus’s grip-like being held by steel cables instead of human hands. His feet actually left the ground for a moment before Marcus set him down three feet away from the chair.

“What-how dare you!” Zachary sputtered, his face purple with rage and shock. “You put your hands on me! In front of the entire board! I’ll have you arrested for assault!”

“Assault?” Marcus’s voice was utterly calm. “I simply helped an elderly gentleman who was sitting in the wrong seat. Now, as I was saying-that chair belongs to Acting Chairman Quinn Hartford.”

“I’m still a board member!” Zachary shouted. “I have every right to sit at this table!”

“Do you?” Marcus tilted his head slightly. “Tell me, Zachary-what official position do you currently hold at Hartford Group?”

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CHAPTER 87 PART 2

The question hung in the air like a bomb.

Zachary’s mouth opened and closed. “I’m-I’m the founder! The patriarch!”

“Not an official position,” Marcus replied. “Try again.”

“I’m a major shareholder!”

“Are you?” Marcus’s smile was cold. “Quinn, would you mind checking the shareholder registry? How many shares does Zachary Hartford currently own?”

Quinn pulled out her phone, accessing the company database with trembling fingers. Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the records.

“According to the registry,” Quinn said quietly, her voice carrying despite its softness, “Zachary Hartford transferred all his shares to various family members three months ago. His current shareholding is… zero.”

Gasps rippled through the boardroom.

“That’s-that’s a lie!” Zachary protested, but his voice lacked conviction. “I have shares! I know I have-”

“You transferred them,” Marcus interrupted, “to avoid personal liability when you thought Quinn would fail as acting chairman. You protected your assets by moving them into other names. Very clever. Except now you have no official position, no shares, and therefore no legal right to occupy the chairman’s seat.”

The silence was deafening.

Wesley Hartford tried to intervene. “Even so, this is a family matter! You can’t just physically remove-”

“Can’t I?” Marcus’s dragon eyes flashed briefly. “Quinn is the acting chairman. I’m her husband. Zachary has no official standing. He’s not even an employee. Technically, he’s trespassing.”

“Trespassing?!” Zachary’s voice cracked with fury. “This is MY company! I built it from nothing! You think some legal technicality gives you the right to-”

“Yes,” Marcus interrupted. “That’s exactly what I think.”

He gestured toward the doorway. “You’re welcome to stay and observe the board meeting, Zachary. But if you insist on attending, you’ll sit in an appropriate location.”

Marcus walked to the corner of the room and picked up a small children’s stool-apparently left over from some past “bring your child to work” event. It was bright red plastic, barely a foot off the ground, designed for toddlers.

He carried it back and set it down against the far wall, away from the conference table.

“There,” Marcus said pleasantly. “Much more suitable for someone with no official position. Feel free to take a seat if you’d like to watch the meeting.”

The humiliation was absolute. Total. Devastating.

Zachary Hartford-patriarch of the Hartford family, founder of Hartford Group, the man who’d ruled this company like a feudal lord for three decades-stared at the tiny plastic stool designed for children.

Every person in that boardroom witnessed it. The mighty brought low. The patriarch reduced to sitting on a toddler’s chair if he wanted to participate in his own company’s meeting.

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“You-you can’t do this to me!” Zachary’s voice trembled with impotent rage. “I won’t tolerate this insult! I’ll —

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