Chapter Thirty-Four
Thorne
I step into the boardroom in the main building of Blackstone Distillery. Through the windows behind Sebastian's head, the rickhouses dot the property, dark silhouettes against the afternoon sky.
Eight faces turn toward me.
As master distiller and CEO, Sebastian sits at the head of the table.
The sight no longer eats at me the way it once did.
Lillianna is in the chair to his right, her expression unreadable, but I know how she'll vote.
It's everyone else, including my brother, that has my heart pounding and my body aching for two fingers of bourbon to calm me.
The empty chair to Sebastian's left waits for me. The spot Hartwell hopes to fill.
Instead, he sits on the sidelines with the other shareholders, his comb-over slightly askew, jowls sagging with barely contained satisfaction.
I walk to my seat and sit down. Don't apologize. Don't explain. Then I meet each person's gaze in turn.
Elena Rodriguez, head of operations, taps her pen against her notepad. Fifteen years with Blackstone, and she's never once weighed in on family politics. I have no idea which way she'll lean.
Tom Cooper from marketing. Patricia Walsh from distribution. David Okonkwo from finance. Faces of others who've been here since before I took over acquisitions.
And Warren Hartwell. Always Hartwell, with his careful bookkeeping and his long memory.
"Let's begin." Sebastian's fingers drum once on the table before going still. "The vote is straightforward. Does Thorne Blackstone retain his position as chief acquisitions officer and his seat on this board, or do we remove him from leadership?"
My pulse hammers against my collar. I force myself to breathe normally. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The same technique I use before major negotiations. Except this time, I'm the one being negotiated.
In all my arrogance, I never thought this moment would actually come. But Hartwell's been waiting for exactly this kind of opening, and he took it.
Hartwell leans forward. "Before we vote, I think the board deserves context." He looks directly at me. "Thorne thinks the Blackstone name makes him invincible, but can we trust the choices he makes on behalf of this distillery?"
"We've all read your concerns in the email calling this meeting, Warren," Sebastian says. "But Thorne should have an opportunity to address the board before we vote."
Hartwell’s mouth tightens, but he nods.
Sebastian looks at me. "Thorne?"
I stand and the room goes quiet. Hartwell’s satisfied smirk tells me he thinks this is theater. A desperate man's last play.
Maybe he's right.
"I'm not going to waste your time." I meet their eyes one by one. "Hartwell’s right that I've made questionable decisions. Pushed boundaries. The photographs he's referring to showed poor judgment on my part."
Hartwell leans back, clearly pleased.
"But those same instincts that sometimes push boundaries have also made this company a fortune. Acquisitions under my leadership, both domestic and international, are up forty-two percent. I've identified opportunities our competitors missed because they were too conservative or too slow."
I lean forward, hands flat on the table.
"So here's what you need to decide. Whether one mistake outweighs years of consistent results. Whether perception matters more than performance."
I straighten. "If you want me gone, vote me out. I'll cooperate with the transition. If you keep me, you're keeping someone who delivers results" I meet Hartwell’s gaze. "And won't bury problems when they surface."
I sit down.
The interim board chair nods. "Does anyone have questions for Mr. Blackstone?"
Sebastian leans forward. My stomach drops.
"I have one,” my brother says, in a tone that’s measured, deliberate. The CEO voice, not the brother voice.
Oh fuck. Here it comes.
"You told this board you've changed. That you've learned to work within the system instead of around it.
" He pauses, his gaze locked on mine. "But the Williams visit—that was three weeks ago.
After everything that's happened. After all your promises.
" His voice drops. "So my question is simple: Have you actually changed, or have you just gotten better at justifying the same behavior? "
The room goes very still. Several board members exchange glances.
Hartwell’s practically vibrating with satisfaction.
Defend yourself. Make excuses.
Heat rises in my chest, but I take a breath. Count to three.
"Have I changed?" I lean back, and for once, I don't have a slick answer ready. "I've had a lot of hard truths hit me since I moved to Quebec. It made me hold up a mirror and actually look at what I've been doing."
I glance at the board members, then back at Sebastian.
"The Williams visit—you're right, that was my old playbook. See a problem, handle it alone, control the outcome. But the environmental response? We handled that as a team. I didn't go rogue on that. I consulted, collaborated, let other people have the reins."
I pause.
"So have I changed? I'm trying to. I'm learning that handing over control can be more powerful than holding it with an iron fist. But old instincts don't die overnight.
" I meet Sebastian's eyes. "I can't promise I won't stumble.
But I can promise I'm finally seeing the pattern and working to break it. "
The room is quiet.
Sebastian stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sits back.
I have no idea if I just convinced him or confirmed every reason he has to vote me out.
My heart pounds as I sit back in my seat.
I didn't make excuses. Didn't manipulate. Didn't destroy Hartwell when I had the chance.
I just told them the truth.
Madison was right. I really do suck at being Louis Blackstone.
Whether that's enough, I'm about to find out.
"I vote he stays," Lillianna tells the room.
"Big surprise," Hartwell mutters.
My shoulders drop half an inch. One vote down. Seven to go.
"Warren?"
Hartwell’s smile is thin, satisfied. "He goes. The company needs leadership in acquisitions we can trust."
His vote lands like an expected blow. I keep my expression neutral.
"Elena?"
She sets her pen on the table with deliberate care. "He stays. His acquisitions saved us during the bourbon shortage. The Copper Creek deal alone was worth keeping him."
Two to one. My lungs remember how to work.
"Tom?"
Tom Cooper shifts in his seat, not meeting my eyes. "I vote he goes. We need stability right now, not controversy."
Two to two. I keep my face stoic, but they can probably hear my pounding heart.
"Patricia?"
Patricia Walsh looks directly at me, her expression apologetic. "His track record is excellent, but judgment is paramount in leadership. I vote he goes."
Three to two. My stomach drops.
"David?"
David Okonkwo clears his throat. "The numbers don't lie. He stays."
Three to three. The room has gone completely silent except for the whisper of Lillianna's pen against her notepad. She doodles to release nervous energy.
"Marcus?"
Marcus Reynolds, our outside legal counsel, adjusts his glasses. "From a corporate governance perspective, removing an effective executive over personal matters sets a dangerous precedent. He stays."
Four to three. So close. One more vote against me and—
"Robert?"
Robert Cooper, Tom's cousin and our distribution coordinator, folds his hands on the table. "I'm with Tom on this. The company can't afford more instability. He goes."
Four to four. And the last vote is Sebastian's. This is it. I'm finished.
The silence that follows is suffocating. Every eye in the room turns to my brother.
This is it. The moment my brother can finally have his revenge for every lie, every manipulation, every time I did my damnedest to make him pay for our father's choices. For the bet. For Rosalia. For everything.
Each inhale is like dragging air through concrete. I curl my fingers against my thighs beneath the table. Sebastian's the one person in this room who has every right to destroy me, and we both know it.
Hartwell leans back in his chair, licking his lips like he already tastes his victory.
"Sebastian?" Lillianna's voice is barely above a whisper.
His gaze locks with mine across the mahogany table.
I see it all there. The scar over his left eye from the night I came home drunk and swinging after Dad told me Sebastian would be CEO.
The night I told him he'd never be good enough to run Blackstone.
The board meeting where I undermined his presentation in front of investors.
The years I let him believe the lies instead of just telling him the truth.
He has every reason to want to destroy me.
The only sound is my grandfather’s analog clock hung on the opposite wall. It counts off the seconds of my fate. My heart hammers so hard I'm certain it will crack a rib.
"He stays."
His verdict slams into me. My lungs seize. Did I hear him right?
Hartwell lurches forward. "You can't be serious."
"The vote is five to four." Sebastian's words land with finality. "Thorne retains his position."
"This is a mistake." Hartwell’s face flushes deep red as he stands, chair dragging violently against the hardwood. "You're letting sentiment cloud your judgment. This family's inability to hold each other accountable will destroy everything your grandfather built."
Sebastian's expression doesn't change. "Since you've brought up accountability, Warren, I'll be conducting a comprehensive audit of our financial controls. Just to ensure everything is as it should be." His tone is pleasant, but his eyes are ice. "This meeting is adjourned."
Hartwell storms out, Robert and Tom Cooper trailing behind him like uncertain shadows.
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't process that Sebastian—of all people—saved me.
"Thorne." Lillianna reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist. "Breathe."
I drag air into my lungs and look up.