“Security, get them out of here. They’re no longer allowed to step into Marks Holdings again. If they continue this nonsense, call the police and have them arrested.”
Rachel Stevenson’s voice was cold and commanding.
“I have plenty of evidence that could destroy your reputations. If any of you dare cause trouble again, don’t think I won’t let you rot in prison.”
Her words left the Marks family shareholders both shocked and enraged.
At that moment, the conference room doors swung open.
I appeared—sitting in my wheelchair—entering their line of sight.
Faces filled with disbelief froze under the bright conference lights.
“What a lively scene,” I said calmly.
In an instant, silence swallowed the entire room.
No one spoke. It felt as if my sudden return had ripped open a buried nightmare.
“What’s wrong?” I asked mildly. “Not happy to see me?”
The tension in the air thickened. The boardroom full of executives and partners shifted their gazes instinctively—not toward me—but toward the woman seated in the chairman’s spot.
Rachel Stevenson.
Only then did Rachel finally recover from her shock. She stood and hurried to my side, eyes glistening with tears, her soft smile trembling.
“Ethan… Ethan Marks, you’re awake… You really woke up!”
“Thank God I never gave up on you!”
She gently pushed my wheelchair next to the table, whispering in a fragile voice:
“It’s been three years.”
“You know how hard I’ve fought to keep everything together?”
“Marks Holdings was surrounded by threats. I lived in constant fear someone would try to finish what the accident started…”
“I was so terrified… so tired…”
Tears streamed as she buried herself against my shoulder.
Her assistant, Jason Lee, glared at me while defending her passionately:
“Mr. Marks, Ms. Stevenson’s dedication to Marks Holdings these years has been undeniable! After your car crash, she stepped up as vice president, leading the company through crisis after crisis!”
“But your relatives—those shareholders—kept undermining her at every turn!”
“They even pushed for pulling your life support when doctors believed you might never wake up! She refused—again and again—yet they insulted her, and even attacked her physically! Worst of all, they spread slander about her all over the internet!”
Jason’s angry accusations quickly stirred the room.
Executives and long-time business partners joined the chorus:
“They went too far.”
“In your first year of coma, they already tried to take your shares!”
“If it weren’t for Ms. Stevenson’s intervention, this company would be gone by now!”
“They even tried to steal clients behind her back—just to force her to give in!”
The Marks family shareholders turned pale as the condemnation piled up.
I narrowed my eyes at them.
“Anything to say for yourselves?”
Silence. Then, outrage.
One of them—my uncle by blood, Robert Marks—snapped first:
“Ethan! I’m your uncle! Is this how you speak to your family?”
“You swore at your parents’ grave you’d support every member of the Marks bloodline! And now you want revenge?”
“Yes, we considered ending your life support! But only because we didn’t want you suffering forever! We did it for your own good!”
