Chapter 12 #2
I count allies. Reassess threats. Some solid with Simone. A couple genuinely evaluating evidence. Several already lost to Armand's decades of influence. The rest hedge their bets. Cowards.
Simone sits perfectly still at the head of the table. Spine straight. Hands folded. But I see the tell—thumb pressing against the inside of her wrist. Keeping herself grounded. Holding it together.
She's holding. Barely.
"Mr. Deveraux raises questions that warrant consideration," the silver-haired board member says. "I think we need time to review all the evidence. Perhaps an independent investigation."
"We don't have time for that," she says. "Armand is trying to destabilize this company because I won't let him control it. Everything he's saying is designed to make you doubt my judgment. Don't let him manipulate you."
Before anyone can respond, the conference room door opens. A woman in a sharp suit enters, carrying papers. She moves directly to Armand, leans down, whispers.
Armand nods. Takes the papers. Smiles.
And I know exactly what's about to happen.
"It seems we need to address something immediately," he says.
He slides the papers to Eleanor. "My legal counsel has prepared documentation for an emergency board resolution.
Given the serious questions about Simone's judgment and the company's exposure to scandal, I'm calling for a formal vote on her fitness to continue serving as CEO.
As board members, we have a fiduciary duty to our shareholders.
This scandal creates liability we can't ignore. "
The room erupts. Board members talking over each other. Eleanor reading the documents with widening eyes. Henry demanding to see the papers.
I stay against the wall. Watching. He knew the preliminary evidence would be strong so he changed the battlefield. Moved it from evidence to fear—fear of scandal, fear of liability, fear of what the media will do to the company's reputation.
Tactical. Vicious. Exactly what I'd do if I were desperate enough to fund murder.
Simone sits perfectly still. Not reacting. Not giving Armand the satisfaction of seeing her rattled.
Eleanor finally looks up from the papers. "This is a formal motion calling for board vote on leadership. It cites recent revelations about Simone's personal conduct and argues they create material liability and reputational risk that compromise her ability to serve."
"That's insane," she says. "There's nothing in my personal life that affects my ability to run this company."
"The board will decide that," Armand says. "And I'm asking this board to act in the company's best interest and in accordance with our fiduciary duties. Remove Simone as CEO. Appoint me as interim. Temporarily. Until this matter is properly resolved."
"Absolutely not," Henry says. "This is corporate blackmail, not legitimate governance."
"Then put it to a vote," Armand replies. Still smiling. Still playing concerned family member. "Let the board decide whether to proceed with business as usual or protect the company while these serious questions are resolved."
The board members look at each other. Uncertain. Some want to fight. Others want to protect the company from scandal. All of them cowards calculating which side will win.
"I move we table all votes until this matter is resolved," one of them says. Older woman, conservative suit. "We can't make leadership decisions while serious questions about judgment and liability are pending."
"Second," another board member adds.
Eleanor looks around the table. Counts support. "All in favor?"
Most hands go up. A couple stay down.
"Motion carries," Eleanor says. "No votes on leadership changes until this matter is resolved."
Simone's face is carved from stone but I read the fury underneath. The cold calculation. He just paralyzed her ability to lead without actually removing her. Brilliant move. Vicious. Exactly what I'd expect from someone willing to fund stalking and murder to steal what isn't his.
"When does the vote happen?" she asks. Voice too calm. Dangerous calm.
Eleanor checks the papers. "Armand's motion requests an emergency board session as soon as possible. Special meeting to address fitness to serve and potential leadership transition."
Soon as possible. Not much time to prepare for Armand dragging her private life into public scrutiny.
The meeting dissolves into chaos. Board members arguing. Henry on his phone with his litigation team. Armand accepting sympathetic handshakes like he's already won.
I move to her side. She's gathering materials, face expressionless.
"We need to leave," I say. Low voice. Command, not suggestion. "Media's waiting downstairs."
She nods. Lets me guide her toward the door. Henry falls in step.
"I need to prep for this," he says. "The board session will be formal but Armand will use it to attack everything. I can line up character witnesses. Professional references. Documentation of your leadership record and fiduciary responsibility."
"They're going to ask about Dominion," she says. "About my lifestyle. About Julien."
"Yes," Henry says. "And we'll address it directly. Consensual adult behavior. Private life separate from professional competence. You were the victim of illegal surveillance, not someone whose judgment is compromised. We frame it before they can weaponize it."
"Simone never consented to being photographed," I say. Low voice. Tactical. "The only reason any of them know about her private life is because Armand paid Julien to conduct illegal surveillance. Privacy violation. Criminal stalking."
Henry nods. Processing. Building the case. "That's the angle. This isn't about Simone's choices. It's about Armand weaponizing illegally obtained material to force her out."
"Julien was barred from Dominion for obsessive behavior," I continue. "Multiple former partners filed restraining orders. Settled out of court with NDAs. Pattern of stalking. Armand knew exactly what kind of weapon he was funding."
"I'll need documentation," Henry says. "Everything you have on Julien's history. The restraining orders, the settlements, his expulsion from the club. We paint Armand as someone who deliberately chose a known stalker to try and destroy his niece."
She's listening. Some of the tension in her shoulders easing. Not fighting alone anymore.
We reach the elevator. Doors close and the controlled mask she's been holding shatters.
She sags against the wall. Eyes closed. Breathing too fast. Tremor in her hands. Spreading to her shoulders.
"He's going to drag everything into the open," she says. Voice cracking at the edges. "Every scene. Every partner. Every moment I thought was private."
I move closer. Don't touch her. Just present. Anchoring.
Her hands are shaking. She grips the elevator rail to hide it but I see everything. The way her knuckles go white. The pulse hammering in her throat. The careful control she's built her entire life fracturing.
"Yes," I say. No point lying. No point softening it. "That's what he wants. Public humiliation. Make you resign rather than fight."
She opens her eyes. Looks at me. Exhausted underneath the fear. She's been fighting alone too long. I see it in the way she grips that rail like it's the only solid thing left.
"I'm not resigning."
I want to touch her. Pull her against me. Let her break where no one else can see. But the elevator's already slowing. Garage level approaching.
I check my phone. Text from Remy with news alert.
The uncle's already talking to reporters outside. Spinning the shareholder action as protecting the company.
"Media's going to be ugly."
"Let them come." Her voice hardens. Steel underneath the exhaustion. "Armand wants a fight. He'll get one."
The elevator reaches the garage. Doors open. Our car is waiting.
As we drive away, I see the news vans following. Getting footage. Building the story. Tomorrow's evaluation will be a circus. Cameras. Reporters. Armand's team ready to weaponize every private moment against her.
She stares out the window. Silent. Planning. Strategizing. Not broken. Not even close. Armand underestimated her if he thought humiliation would be enough to make her fold.
Mistake... big mistake.
The car heads back toward home. Away from the cameras, the board, the corporate theater. Tomorrow Armand plays his cards. And after he does, he's mine.