I nodded, straightening my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
The walk to the boardroom felt like the longest of my life. Each step was a countdown to what might be my last stand at CarideoTech. I thought of Marco, of our kids, of Patrick. This wasn’t just for me. This was for all of them.
Lisa squeezed my arm before I entered. “Give ‘em hell, boss.”
I pushed open the door and stepped into the boardroom.
Eight pairs of eyes swiveled to meet mine. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air almost crackling with it. Arthur sat at the far end of the table, flanked by Johnson and Haskins like matching bookends. His expression was one of barely concealed triumph.
“Theresa,” Arthur said, rising slightly, his voice dripping with false concern. “We were just about to begin. Please, have a seat.”
I nodded coolly, taking my place at the opposite end of the table. I placed my slim leather portfolio in front of me—empty of any new proposals, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Shall we begin?” Johnathan Foster asked. At seventy-two, Foster was the oldest member of the board and had been Marco’s mentor. Now he looked tired, resigned.
“Thank you, Johnathan.” Arthur stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “As you all know, we face a critical juncture. The tragic loss of Marco has created significant challenges, and the recent collapse of the MacLeod partnership has only compounded these difficulties.”
My fingers twitched. I wanted to interrupt, to tell them exactly why that partnership collapsed, but I forced myself to remain silent.
“Fortunately,” Arthur continued, distributing folders, “I’ve been able to secure a lifeline. Axiom Ventures has made a generous offer: twenty million dollars for a fifty-one percent controlling interest.”
A low murmur ran around the table. Twenty million. It was a lowball offer for the tech we had, but it was safe cash for a scared board.
“This injection of capital will stabilize our finances,” Arthur said, his voice rising with conviction. “Axiom specializes in turning around struggling tech companies.”
Johnson nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve reviewed their portfolio. They’re pragmatic, decisive.”
“We can’t afford another setback,” Haskins added quickly.
Arthur spread his hands. “I know this is difficult. But this is the responsible path forward—for our shareholders, our employees, and for Marco’s legacy.”
I nearly choked. For Marco’s legacy. As if selling his life’s work to corporate scavengers honored him.
“I believe we should move to a vote immediately,” Johnson said.
Foster looked around the table, his expression troubled. “Theresa should have an opportunity to respond.”
Arthur nodded magnanimously. “Of course. By all means.”
All eyes turned to me. This was it. My last chance to stall before the vote.
I rose slowly, leaving my portfolio closed. “Before we vote,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “we need to be clear about who we’re selling to. Axiom Ventures isn’t an investment firm. They’re a chop shop.”
Tammi Brown frowned. “That’s a strong accusation.”
“It’s their business model,” I countered. “Acquire, strip, sell. CyberShield in 1990. MedSense in 1993. They buy companies to kill the competition.” I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table. “Marco built this company to help people. Selling to Axiom isn’t a business transaction—it’s an execution.”
The silence that followed was profound. I could see the conflict playing out on Foster and Morton’s faces. They knew I was right, but fear was a powerful drug, and Arthur was offering the antidote.
“Sentiment is not a business strategy, Theresa,” Arthur said, his voice laced with condescension. “We have a concrete offer on the table, and you have brought us nothing. We must vote.”
Foster looked at me, pained. “Do you have an alternative proposal, Theresa?”
I hesitated. The silence stretched, agonizing and absolute. I had nothing. Ashley had said no.
“I think we should proceed,” Foster sighed. “All those in favor of accepting Axiom Ventures’ offer?”
Johnson and Haskins raised their hands immediately. Morton raised his slowly. Three votes.
