Chapter 25
The doors to the board room gleamed like polished obsidian, their surfaces etched with the Duvain family crest—a rising phoenix surrounded by flames.
He had spent the morning memorizing the building’s layout, cataloging exits and security positions, but this symbol held his attention now.
Fire and flight. Destruction and rebirth.
Fitting, he thought, for what’s about to happen.
Ember stood beside him, transformed from the woman who’d shared his bed last night into something altogether more formidable.
Her gown was the deep crimson of arterial blood, fitted close to her body before sweeping outward in a cascade of fabric that whispered against the marble floor.
Gold thread traced patterns along the bodice—more phoenixes, their wings unfurling across the curve of her ribs.
Her pale hair had been swept up and secured with pins that caught the light like captured stars, and her mother’s necklace sparkled around her throat.
She looked like a queen preparing for war.
He wore the colors she’d chosen for him, midnight blue shot through with silver, the Duvain family colors.
The fabric was finer than anything he’d worn in years, tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders and long limbs, but still allow freedom of movement.
A deliberate choice on her part, he suspected.
She wanted him armed in more than just clothing.
“Ready?” she asked without looking at him.
“Are you?”
A smile curved her painted lips. “I’ve been ready my entire life. I just didn’t know it until now.”
She reached for the door controls, and Rykan took his position at her left shoulder—close enough to intervene if necessary, far enough back to signal that she was the one in command. The doors slid open with a soft hiss.
The board room beyond was a cathedral of corporate power.
Soaring windows offered a panoramic view of Port Cantor’s gleaming spires, sunlight streaming through in golden shafts that illuminated the long table at the room’s center.
Thirteen chairs surrounded it—twelve of them occupied by men and women in various states of anticipation.
The thirteenth chair sat at the table’s head. Marina Duvain occupied it like a throne.
Ember’s aunt wore silver today, her gown a deliberate counterpoint to Ember’s crimson.
Her hair was swept back in an elegant twist, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears.
She looked up as they entered, and for just a moment—a fraction of a heartbeat—he saw something flicker across her composed features.
Surprise, he decided. She didn’t expect Ember to come here first. Didn’t expect her to come at all, perhaps.
The expression vanished so quickly he might have imagined it, replaced by a warm smile that didn’t reach Marina’s cool blue eyes.
“Ember, darling.” Marina rose gracefully, moving towards them with arms outstretched. “We were so worried about you. When we heard about the accident—”
“Aunt Marina.” Ember’s voice was pleasant but firm as she sidestepped the attempted embrace. “Thank you for your concern. As you can see, I’m quite recovered.”
She continued past her aunt without pausing, her stride confident and unhurried as she made her way towards the head of the table. The board members watched in varying degrees of surprise and calculation, and he noted each reaction, filing them away for later analysis.
The thin man with the silver beard leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed.
Hostile. Probably one of Marina’s creatures.
The heavyset woman beside him shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between Ember and Marina.
Uncertain. Could go either way. A younger man at the far end of the table smiled slightly, something like satisfaction flickering across his features. A potential ally.
She reached the head of the table and stopped, looking down at the empty chair—the chair Marina had vacated to greet her.
“I believe this seat belongs to me,” she said calmly.
The room went absolutely quiet. Even the soft hum of the building’s environmental systems seemed to hold its breath.
Marina’s smile remained fixed in place, but he saw the tension in her shoulders, the slight tightening around her eyes.
“Of course, darling. I was merely keeping it warm for you.” She gestured gracefully.
“But are you certain you’re feeling up to this?
After everything you’ve been through, no one would think less of you for taking time to recover.
I’m more than happy to continue managing affairs until—”
“That won’t be necessary.” She settled into the chair with the ease of someone who’d been born to sit there. Which, he reminded himself, she had been. “I appreciate everything you’ve done in my absence, Aunt Marina, but I’m quite capable of resuming my responsibilities.”
She gestured to the chair immediately to her right—the position of an advisor, not a leader. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
The power play was elegant in its simplicity. Marina had no choice but to accept the lesser seat or make a scene in front of the entire board. Either option cost her something—authority if she complied, dignity if she didn’t.
She chose to comply, though Rykan caught the flash of fury in her eyes as she settled into the chair Ember had indicated. Her smile never wavered.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Ember said, her voice carrying easily through the chamber. “I apologize for any disruption my… unexpected absence may have caused. I’m grateful for your patience during what must have been an uncertain time.”
“Miss Duvain.” The silver-bearded man leaned forward, his tone dripping with false concern.
“We’re all relieved to see you safe, of course.
But I must echo Lady Marina’s concerns. The trauma of such an ordeal—the ship, the crash, your time alone in the wilderness—” His gaze flickered to Rykan, his distaste evident.
“Surely it would be wise to take some time before making any major decisions.”
His beast stirred at the implied insult, but he kept his expression neutral. This was Ember’s battle. He was here to watch and learn—and to intervene only if necessary.
“Your concern is touching, Director Harkan.” Her smile was razor-sharp. “However, I can assure you that my faculties are quite intact. In fact, I found my time in the mountains remarkably… clarifying.”
She touched a control embedded in the table’s surface, and a holographic display flickered to life above its center—charts and figures that he recognized from her research the night before.
“While I was recovering, I took the opportunity to review our recent financial reports. I must say, some of what I found was quite… interesting.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
“For instance.” She gestured, and the display shifted to highlight a specific proposal.
“I see that the board approved a substantial investment in Meridian Shipping six months ago. The projected returns were impressive—fifteen percent annually, guaranteed by exclusive contracts with three colonial worlds.”
She paused, letting the silence stretch.
“What the proposal failed to mention was that Meridian Shipping is a subsidiary of Kestrel Holdings, which is itself owned by a shell company registered on Altair IV. The beneficial owner of that shell company?” Another gesture, another shift in the display. “Director Harkan’s brother-in-law.”
Harkan’s face went purple. “That’s a completely unfounded accusation—”
“Is it?” Her voice remained perfectly calm. “I have the registration documents here, if you’d like to review them. The chain of ownership is quite clear.”
“The investment was sound,” Marina interjected smoothly. “Whatever the peripheral connections, Meridian’s performance has exceeded projections—”
“Has it?” Ember cut her off with a gesture that would have been rude from anyone else.
From the head of the table, it was simply authority.
“Because according to these figures, Meridian has underperformed its guarantees by twelve percent. The shortfall has been covered by… let me see…” She made a show of consulting the display.
“Ah, yes. By emergency transfers from our reserve fund. Transfers that were approved by the CEO without board oversight, as per the amended authorization protocols.”
He watched Marina’s face carefully. The woman was good—her expression remained gracious and concerned, with just a hint of confusion, as if she couldn’t imagine what Ember was suggesting.
But he’d spent years reading the subtle signals of potential enemies, and he saw what she was hiding beneath that polished surface.
Fear, he realized with grim satisfaction. She’s afraid. Ember has her off-balance, and she doesn’t know how to recover.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Marina said. “If you’d like, I can have my assistant pull the relevant documentation—”
“That won’t be necessary. I have all the documentation I need.
” Ember’s gaze swept the table, pausing on each face in turn.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not here to make accusations or assign blame.
I’m here to ensure that Duvain Enterprises operates with the integrity my father built into its foundation.
To that end, I’ll be conducting a thorough review of all financial transactions over the past three years. ”
Murmurs rippled around the table. He tracked them—which voices carried notes of concern, which carried relief, which remained carefully neutral.
The heavyset woman—Director Montgomery, he remembered from Ember’s briefing, no relation to the dismissed security chief—cleared her throat. “Miss Duvain, if I may…”
“Please, Director.”