The boardroom at Roth Industries was as cold as the welcome that awaited her.
Elena stood at the head of the long, glass conference table where her father used to preside, the Manhattan skyline stretching behind her like a silent jury. Twelve board members sat before her, each more seasoned, more ruthless, more skeptical than the last. Some wore polite masks, others didn't bother. Her black suit was sharp, her heels silent on the marble floors, but nothing muted the weight of their scrutiny.
She knew the question they weren't asking aloud: What makes you think you can lead this company, little girl?
Victor Crane, the oldest and most influential board member, also one of her father's oldest "friends,"tilted his head with something close to a smirk. His voice, smooth and calculated, broke the silence. "We appreciate you stepping in so quickly, Elena. But surely you understand this isn't the time for sentiment. Roth Industries needs stability."
"And leadership," added Gloria Park, CFO and another long-timer who once referred to Elena as Dominic's shadow. Her tone was clinical. "We assumed there would be an interim appointment while the board reviewed candidates."
Elena arched her brow. "There was no need. My father's will appoint me CEO directly. Effective immediately."
Murmurs rippled across the room.
She continued, voice unwavering, "I've already signed the necessary documentation. Legal has confirmed it. I'm not here to be evaluated,I'm here to lead."
A few heads turned toward Victor, gauging his reaction. He leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. "No one is doubting your... intentions," he said. "But intentions don't build quarterly profit. Your father's legacy is a global empire one misstep could cost us billions. We simply want assurance that you're up to the task."
Elena stared at him. "You'll have your assurance in the numbers. Roth's vision lives in its innovation. I know this company better than any outsider you'd consider hiring. And I won't be reduced to a figurehead while you play kingmaker."
The silence that followed was thick with tension. Elena let it stretch, daring them to challenge her again. Finally, Victor nodded slowly, that same false smile still plastered across his face.
"Very well," he said. "Then we look forward to your first strategy presentation next week. You'll find expectations... high."
Meeting adjourned.
The room emptied slowly, with glances over shoulders and undercurrents of doubt lingering like the scent of her father's cologne—still trapped in the walls. Elena stood alone at the head of the table, the polished surface reflecting her image: poised, composed, but undeniably alone.
Sophie was waiting just outside, tablet in hand. "Well?"
"They think I'm ornamental," Elena said, stepping into the hallway.
Sophie gave her a knowing look. "You're going to prove them wrong."
"I don't have a choice," Elena replied. "They smell blood in the water."
"And you," Sophie said, walking beside her, "are the shark they didn't see coming."
Elena didn't smile, but something sharp glittered in her eyes.
She was the CEO now—like it or not. And she would not be dismissed, not by Victor, not by anyone. The crown might be unwelcome, but it was hers.
And she intended to wear it like armor.