CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR LANA
Jax leaves at eight Tuesday morning to meet Brandon about apartment options and security installations, kissing me once before heading out with the promise to text updates. I'm left in the safe house with Andre on duty, reviewing notes for today's foundation board meeting that I'm already dreading.
The board has been increasingly vocal about my leadership since Ezra started his legal threats.
Last week's emergency meeting included pointed questions about whether I'm "fit to continue" given the "instability" surrounding the estate.
Today's agenda includes "discussion of leadership continuity" which is corporate speak for "we're going to pressure you to resign. "
I dress carefully—navy suit that projects authority, minimal jewelry, hair pulled back in ways that say professional rather than traumatized widow. The performance starts before I leave the safe house.
By the time I step out, Derek has already resumed.
We leave Andre behind as Derek drives me to the foundation office, maintains close protection through the parking garage and elevator, positions himself outside the conference room where the board is already assembled.
Eight people who've known me since I founded this organization after Gabriel's death, who watched me transform grief into action, who are now questioning whether I can maintain leadership under legal scrutiny.
Thomas Whitmore, the board chair, stands when I enter. "Lana. Thank you for coming."
"It's my organization. Of course I'm here." I take my seat at the head of the table, refusing to cede the position Thomas probably wanted for himself. "Let's begin."
The meeting starts with standard updates—expansion timeline, budget reviews. Everything normal until we reach the final agenda item where Thomas clears his throat with the particular sound of someone delivering bad news.
"We need to discuss the estate situation," he says, pulling out documents I haven't seen before.
"Ezra Pope's legal team has been making inquiries.
Asking questions about foundation finances, the source of your initial funding, your authority to make organizational decisions while legal disputes remain unresolved. "
"What legal disputes? Ezra dropped the estate case last month after we threatened discovery. The probate settled five months ago. Everything went to me as Gabriel's will specified." I'm keeping my voice level despite the anger building. "That matter is closed."
"Apparently not as closed as we thought.
" This from Diana Corbett, who's been skeptical of my leadership since I refused to use Gabriel's venture capital model for the foundation.
"His attorneys reached out last week with a new claim—alleging that he and Gabriel had joint investments in several ventures.
That his capital is tied up in Gabriel's portfolio and he can't access it now that Gabriel is deceased. "
"Yes, but Gabriel never mentioned Ezra investing with him. This is clearly another harassment tactic."
"Perhaps. But it's creating the same perception problems the estate challenge did.
" Thomas is pulling out more documents. "Donors are asking questions.
Board members are fielding calls from concerned parties wondering if the foundation is financially stable given ongoing legal entanglement with Gabriel's family. "
"There is no legal entanglement. There's Ezra making false claims after his first attempt failed." I'm looking directly at Diana now. "And there are board members who apparently think I should capitulate every time he invents a new angle."
"We're not suggesting capitulation." Thomas again, attempting diplomatic tones.
"We're questioning whether continuing to engage with these claims serves the foundation's best interests.
If settling this joint investment dispute—even if it's baseless—resolves the legal scrutiny, perhaps that's the wiser choice. "
"Settlement on what terms? Paying him for investments he never made because the board is uncomfortable with ongoing legal noise?
" I'm standing now, unable to sit through this performance of concern masking cowardice.
"I founded this organization with my inheritance.
The work we do depends on funding that's legally mine.
Ezra wants to contest that through whatever angle he can find, and you're suggesting I just pay him off to make it stop? "
"We're suggesting you consider what's best for the organization." Diana's voice has hardened. "Your personal legal battles are creating instability. If that instability threatens the foundation, then yes, we have to consider alternative leadership."
"Alternative leadership." I repeat the phrase, making sure everyone hears how absurd it sounds. "You want me to step down because Ezra won't stop making false claims. That's what you're actually proposing."
"We're proposing you take a leave of absence.
Temporary. Until this joint investment matter resolves—one way or another.
" Thomas is pulling out more documents—formal motions, already drafted, just waiting for board approval.
"We've prepared transition plans. Stephen can serve as interim director while you focus on resolving these personal legal matters. "
Stephen Walsh, who's been on this board for three months and knows nothing about the communities we serve. Who got his position through connections rather than expertise. Who would run the foundation like a standard nonprofit instead of the targeted intervention I built from the ground up.
"No." The word comes out harder than I intend. "I'm not taking a leave of absence. I'm not stepping down. And if this board votes to remove me, I'll fight that too."
"Lana, be reasonable—" Diana starts, but I cut her off.
"I am being reasonable. You're asking me to surrender leadership because someone keeps making false legal claims. That's not reasonable.
That's cowardice." I'm gathering my things now, done with this performance.
"If you want to vote on my removal, do it.
But I won't make it easy by resigning voluntarily. "
I walk out before anyone can respond, Derek falling into step beside me as I head for the elevator.
My hands are shaking with rage I didn't let them see, my chest tight with the realization that I'm fighting battles on multiple fronts—Ezra coming back with false joint investment claims after dropping the estate case, The Glasshouse assessing whether I'm a threat through Wednesday's meeting, and now my own board questioning whether I'm fit to lead the organization I created.
In the car, I text Jax: Board meeting was a disaster. They want me to take leave of absence or resign. I refused.
His response comes within seconds: Where are you now?
Me: Leaving foundation. Derek is driving me back to the safe house.
Jax: I'm finishing with Brandon. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes.
I spend the drive processing anger and frustration, trying to separate reasonable concern from Thomas's obvious power play.
The board has legitimate questions about organizational stability.
But asking me to step down because Ezra is making threats isn't about stability—it's about optics and risk management and not wanting to fight battles that might reflect poorly on their board service.
When we reach the safe house, I dismiss Derek with thanks, let myself inside, and immediately pour a drink I probably shouldn't have at eleven AM. Jax arrives twenty minutes later, takes one look at my face and knows the meeting went worse than disaster.
"Tell me," he says, already moving toward me.
So I do. I tell him about Thomas’s documents, Diana’s concerns, the proposal for temporary leave that's obviously permanent removal disguised as consideration for my wellbeing. I tell him I refused, that I walked out, that I'm now fighting my own board along with Ezra and The Glasshouse.
"They're scared," he says when I finish. "Worried that association with you creates liability they can't manage."
"I know they're scared. I'm scared too." I down the rest of my drink, set the glass down harder than necessary. "But I'm not stepping down because fear is easier than fighting. Gabriel already took five years of my life for his comfort. The board doesn't get to take the foundation too."
He's watching me with the focused attention I recognize from surveillance, except now it feels like assessment rather than observation. "What do you need?"
The question is simple, but the answer is complicated. I need the board to support me. I need Ezra to drop his threats. I need The Glasshouse to decide I'm not worth eliminating. I need all of this to end so I can just exist without pretending to have the strength I'm not sure I possess.
But what I say is: "I need to stop feeling like everyone else controls my life. Like I'm just reacting to their decisions instead of making my own."
"Then make your own decision. Right now. Something that's entirely yours." He hasn't moved closer, just stands there giving me space.
I cross the distance between us, crash my mouth into his hard enough that our teeth click, hard enough to taste copper and fury.
My tongue pushes past his lips like a demand, and he answers instantly, opening for me, letting me take.
His hands rise to cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones in that maddening gentleness, but he doesn't wrestle for control.
He yields. He lets me bite his lower lip, lets me suck it into my mouth and soothe the sting with my tongue, lets me set the brutal, hungry rhythm until we're both gasping.
I tear my mouth away just far enough to growl, "Bedroom. Now."