Chapter 8: The Boardroom Echo
The next morning I woke before dawn. No alarm. Just the quiet pull of something unfinished. I dressed in the same charcoal suit from the night before. Added a thin silver watch Harlan had left on the dresser. Simple. Precise. The kind that didn't need to announce itself.
Downstairs the study was already lit. Harlan stood by the window with a tablet in hand. Coffee waiting on the side table. Black. Hot.
"She didn't sleep," he said without turning. "Paced until three. Called her mother twice. Then her lawyer. Then Daniel Voss. Left voicemails. No answers."
I poured the coffee. Took a sip. "What time is the board meeting?"
"Ten sharp. Virtual. They moved it up. Eleanor insisted. Said it was urgent."
I nodded. Set the cup down.
"Pull up the feed."
Harlan tapped the tablet. The main screen on the wall flickered to life. Split view. One side showed the Harrington Group conference room—empty for now. Long mahogany table. Floor-to-ceiling windows behind it. The other side was a grid of participant squares. Names ticking in one by one.
I sat in the leather chair. Watched the grid fill.
Eleanor Harrington appeared first. Face tight. Makeup perfect but eyes tired. She wore her usual power red blazer. Like armor.
Then the directors. Five of them. Older men mostly. One woman. All looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
Victoria joined last. Hair pulled back severe. White blouse. No jewelry except her wedding ring. She hadn't taken it off yet. Interesting.
Eleanor spoke first. Voice clipped.
"Thank you for joining on short notice. We have a situation. An anonymous package arrived yesterday. Allegations of financial irregularities. Transfers from company accounts to offshore entities. Forged signatures. Two million dollars unaccounted for."
Murmurs rippled through the grid.
One director—gray hair, thick glasses—leaned forward. "Eleanor, we've seen the documents. They're detailed. Timestamps. IP logs. All pointing to internal access. Specifically Victoria's office."
Victoria's square went still.
Eleanor raised a hand. "This is clearly sabotage. Someone is trying to destabilize us right before the merger. We need to focus on damage control."
Another voice. Older man. Deep. "Damage control? Eleanor, if this gets out, the SEC will crawl all over us. Langford will pull out faster than you can say 'due diligence.'"
Victoria spoke then. Quiet. Controlled.
"I've reviewed the materials. The signatures look like mine. But I didn't authorize those transfers. Someone framed me. Framed us."
Silence.
The woman director—short dark hair, sharp eyes—tilted her head. "Framed by whom?"
Victoria hesitated. Just a second. "My ex-husband. Ethan Black."
A ripple of surprise.
Eleanor cut in fast. "That's absurd. The man was a nobody. He couldn't even balance a checkbook."
Victoria's eyes flicked down. "He's… changed. He called me last night. Knew things. About the dollar deposit. About the merger. He's behind this."
The room went quiet again.
Gray-hair director cleared his throat. "Victoria. If he has proof—real proof—we need to know. Now."
"I don't know what proof he has," she said. "But he's threatening to expose everything."
Eleanor slammed her palm on the table. The sound cracked through the speakers.
"We are not letting some disgruntled ex-son-in-law dictate terms. We deny everything. Call it a hack. A cyberattack. Blame external actors. We hire investigators. We stall the merger if we must. But we do not fold."
Victoria looked straight into the camera. Straight at me, even though she didn't know it.
"If we don't address this head-on," she said softly, "it will destroy us. All of us."
Eleanor glared at her daughter. "You're panicking. Pull yourself together."
Victoria didn't flinch. "I'm not panicking. I'm being realistic. Ethan isn't the man we thought he was."
The directors exchanged looks.
Gray-hair spoke again. "We vote. Motion to hire independent forensic accountants. Immediate freeze on all non-essential transactions. Full disclosure to Langford's team by end of day. Aye or nay."
One by one the ayes came in. Reluctant. But unanimous.
Eleanor's face went white.
Victoria just stared at the screen. Eyes glassy.
The meeting ended abruptly.
The feed cut.
I leaned back. Exhaled slow.
Harlan turned off the wall screen.
"She's cracking," he said.
"She's realizing."
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I answered.
"Ethan."
Victoria's voice. Raw. No greeting.
I didn't speak.
"I know it's you," she continued. "The board just voted to investigate. They're bringing in outsiders. If they find anything—"
"They will."
She let out a shaky breath. "What do you want? Name it. Money? A public apology? I'll do it. Just stop."
I stood up. Walked to the window. Looked down at the city waking up.
"I want the truth," I said. "All of it. In writing. Signed. Admitting the frame job. The affair. The way you let your mother treat me like garbage while you smiled and took it. Everything."
Silence.
Then: "And if I do?"
"Then maybe I stop before the SEC gets involved. Before the papers run the story. Before your name becomes synonymous with fraud."
She laughed. Broken sound. "You hate me that much?"
"I don't hate you," I said. "I just don't love you anymore. There's a difference."
Another long pause.
"I'll send it," she whispered. "By tonight."
"Good."
I hung up.
Harlan watched me.
"She'll try to negotiate," he said.
"She can try."
I turned back to the window.
The sun was fully up now. Bright. Unforgiving.
Somewhere below, Victoria was sitting in that big apartment. Alone. Pen in hand. Writing the words that would end her carefully built life.
And I felt nothing.
No joy. No pity.
Just the quiet certainty that the scales were finally balancing.
One signature at a time.