"Frank," Henderson says, his voice carrying the weight of absolute judgment. "Under your leadership, this organization has fostered an environment where systematic harassment was not only possible but profitable for the perpetrator. Your complete failure to recognize or address Ms. Lamore's behavior represents a level of managerial incompetence that I find staggering."
Miller's face goes from red to gray. "Sir, I had no knowledge—"
"Your lack of knowledge is precisely the problem. Add that to your questionable personnel decisions, your inability to manage the salary cap, and your dismissive response to a hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar opportunity, and the pattern becomes clear." Henderson's tone is conversational, almost gentle, which somehow makes his words moredevastating. "Your employment with this organization is also terminated, effective immediately."
The simple words detonate in the room. Miller's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, his face cycling through shock, rage, and something that looks like terror.
Then Henderson turns to me, and for the first time since we entered this room, I see something that might be approval in his steel-gray eyes.
"Ms. McKenzie, your proposal is approved. Additionally, I'm creating a new position—Vice President of Strategic Partnerships—with full authority to implement your vision and a budget commensurate with the revenue projections you've outlined."
The words wash over me—pure vindication. Not just reinstatement. Not just approval. Complete and total victory, wrapped in a promotion that puts me among the organization's senior leadership.
"Furthermore," Henderson continues, "I want you to oversee a complete review of our HR policies and procedures. What happened to you will not happen to anyone else under my ownership."
I find my voice, though it feels disconnected from my body. "More than acceptable, Mr. Henderson. Thank you."
"No," he says, moving toward the door while Vivian and Miller sit in stunned silence. "Thank you for showing me exactly what this organization needs to become."
He pauses at the threshold, his gaze encompassing the entire room. "Ms. McKenzie, I'll expect your implementation timeline by end of business Friday. Security will be here shortly to escort Ms. Lamore and Mr. Miller out."
Then he's gone, leaving behind a silence so complete I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Vivian andFrank quickly storm out, leaving a wake of hatred so palpable it felt like a physical force against my skin.
I remain standing at the head of the table, my hands flat against the polished mahogany, trying to process what just happened. The presentation still glows on the wall behind me—my vision, my strategy, my future—now backed by the full authority of ownership.Vice President of Strategic Partnerships.The words ring in my mind like a victory bell, each syllable carrying the weight of fifteen years of fighting for respect, for recognition, for the right to be seen as more than what small minds wanted to reduce me to.
Across the room, I feel Garrett's gaze on me, steady and warm with pride, and when our eyes meet, there's a moment of shared triumph that makes my pulse skip. Not because he saved me, but because he trusted me to save myself.
And I did.
37
Garrett
The silence in the conference room feels profound, like the quiet awe after a perfectly executed play. But this isn't about hockey. This is about watching the most extraordinary woman I've ever known completely remake her world through sheer force of brilliance.
I can't stop staring at her.
Sloane stands at the head of that massive mahogany table like she was born to command it, her hands flat against the polished surface, shoulders squared beneath her navy blazer. The presentation still glows on the wall behind her—her vision, her strategy, her revolution—now backed by Henderson himself.
She did it. She didn't just win her job back—she transformed defeat into dominance, turned her termination into promotion, weaponized their dismissal into absolute victory. And I got to watch it happen. Got to be here when she proved to everyone in this room that underestimating Sloane McKenzie is the kind of mistake that costs you everything.
The pride coursing through my veins is so intense it's almost painful. Not the possessive pride of a man claiming credit for his woman's success, but something cleaner, purer—the deep satisfaction of watching someone you love become exactly who they were always meant to be. She didn'tneed me to save her. She saved herself. All I did was give her the tools and get out of her way.
Finally. Finally, I got it right.
Across the room, Easton and Brynn are gathering their things with the quiet efficiency of people who know the real show is just beginning. Brynn's laptop disappears into her bag with a soft snap, and she moves toward Sloane with predatory satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Sloane," she breathes, pulling her into a fierce hug. "You didn't just win—you conquered."
Easton reaches them in two long strides, his massive frame radiating the protective satisfaction of a goalie who just shut out the opposing team's power play. When he wraps his arms around both women, his voice carries the rough edge of someone processing relief and pride in equal measure.
"I'm sorry," he says into Sloane's hair. "For the ultimatum. For not trusting you to handle this. For thinking I needed to protect you from your own choices."
"You were protecting the team," Sloane replies, and there's no edge to it now, no lingering resentment. Just understanding. "I get it. But next time, trust that I know what I'm doing."
"There won't be a next time," Easton says firmly. "You just proved you're untouchable."
They hold each other for another moment, siblings who've weathered the storm and emerged stronger. Then Brynn steps back, her mind already shifting toward the story she'll craft from today's victory.
