“Now,” he said, grinning. “All that’s left is to make it official. Let’s vote.”
I felt the shift in the room like a ghost passed through us all, the momentum moving away from Westwood and Sons like a tide pulling back before a wave. My phone buzzed softly against my thigh and I checked it, hoping it was Jane.
Sterling: If the vote doesn’t go our way, we’ll have time to improve the offer. But I need to know, are you serious about this? It would be our first real gamble with the company.
I didn’t hesitate to respond, typing just one word with absolute certainty.
Me: Yes.
Across the table, Nora finally lifted her gaze. Our eyes met for half a second, just long enough for my heart to hammer painfully against my ribs before she looked away again.
The vote was coming, and for the first time in my professional career, I had no idea how it would end. One of the board members cleared his throat, smiling like a Cheshire cat when he looked at me. “Before we proceed, we should acknowledge that there is a competing offer on the table.”
My pulse spiked. I already knew. I’d felt it in my bones since Mallory’s smile at the club.
“It’s from a foreign manufacturing group,” he said smoothly. “Privately held. Substantial liquidity.”
I leaned back slowly in my chair, my jaw tight. “How substantial?”
“Five hundred million,” he said like he was challenging me to argue.
The room went very still, and for half a second, I actually laughed. Thayer Steelworks wasn’t worth nearly that much. Not now. Not with outdated plants, unstable leadership, and a board desperate to cash out. Five hundred million wasn’t just generous, it was obscene.
There was no universe in which the other board members wouldn’t agree to it. My phone was already in my hand under the table.
Me: If shit hits the fan, we’re offering a billion.
I hit send to Sterling and stared at the screen like I could will the dots to appear, but they didn’t.
Andrew Thayer took a long sip of his cocktail, utterly delighted as he looked around the table. “I told you this wouldbe a productive meeting. The offer ensures a clean exit and significant shareholder value. Frankly, I don’t see a downside.”
Because you’re checked out,I thought.You don’t care what happens after.
Sterling finally spoke up from California. “This feels premature. There are alternatives worth discussing.”
A few board members exchanged looks and one of them shrugged, but another just shook his head. “There have been enough discussions. We’re voting.”
My heart hammered so hard, it felt like it might crack my ribs, but my gaze was locked on Nora. She sat perfectly composed, her hands folded neatly on the table and her expression unreadable. Not cold, emotional, or distant. Just like she’d already made peace with whatever choice she was about to make.
The votes started going around the table. Oneyesafter another, each one landing like a blow, dull and cumulative, until my chest felt hollowed out.
Sterling voted no, his voice firm and resolute. Mine followed immediately after, sharp with barely restrained fury, but it didn’t matter. Just like we’d known it would, it came down to one person.
Nora.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax and my face to stay neutral. This was the moment we’d been waiting for, to see her do the right thing to protect her daughter and to stop this madness before it went any further.
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
The word echoed in the silence of the room, but I still didn’t quite seem to understand it. My mind refused to process the sound, clinging to the expectation that she’d say no, that this was just a delay or a misunderstanding, anything but the truth.
As I slammed back in my chair, I caught a glimpse of the door from the corner of my eye, and I felt the blood drain out of me. Jane stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes darting around the room, confusion written all over her face.
She looked like she’d walked into the wrong room, the wrong version of her life, one where everything had gone sideways without her. The timing was brutal. Surgical.
Nora hadn’t even looked at her daughter as she’d voted, but the chair didn’t care about what had just been done to my wife.
“Majority rules,” he announced. “The motion passes.”
