“That won’t be necessary.” She settled into the chair with the ease of someone who’d been born to sit there. Which, he reminded himself, she had been. “I appreciate everything you’ve done in my absence, Aunt Marina, but I’m quite capable of resuming my responsibilities.”
She gestured to the chair immediately to her right—the position of an advisor, not a leader. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
The power play was elegant in its simplicity. Marina had no choice but to accept the lesser seat or make a scene in front of the entire board. Either option cost her something—authority if she complied, dignity if she didn’t.
She chose to comply, though Rykan caught the flash of fury in her eyes as she settled into the chair Ember had indicated. Her smile never wavered.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board,” Ember said, her voice carrying easily through the chamber. “I apologize for any disruption my… unexpected absence may have caused. I’m grateful for your patience during what must have been an uncertain time.”
“Miss Duvain.” The silver-bearded man leaned forward, his tone dripping with false concern. “We’re all relieved to see you safe,of course. But I must echo Lady Marina’s concerns. The trauma of such an ordeal—the ship, the crash, your time alone in the wilderness—” His gaze flickered to Rykan, his distaste evident. “Surely it would be wise to take some time before making any major decisions.”
His beast stirred at the implied insult, but he kept his expression neutral. This was Ember’s battle. He was here to watch and learn—and to intervene only if necessary.
“Your concern is touching, Director Harkan.” Her smile was razor-sharp. “However, I can assure you that my faculties are quite intact. In fact, I found my time in the mountains remarkably… clarifying.”
She touched a control embedded in the table’s surface, and a holographic display flickered to life above its center—charts and figures that he recognized from her research the night before.
“While I was recovering, I took the opportunity to review our recent financial reports. I must say, some of what I found was quite… interesting.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
“For instance.” She gestured, and the display shifted to highlight a specific proposal. “I see that the board approved a substantial investment in Meridian Shipping six months ago. The projected returns were impressive—fifteen percent annually, guaranteed by exclusive contracts with three colonial worlds.”
She paused, letting the silence stretch.
“What the proposal failed to mention was that Meridian Shipping is a subsidiary of Kestrel Holdings, which is itself owned by a shell company registered on Altair IV. The beneficialowner of that shell company?” Another gesture, another shift in the display. “Director Harkan’s brother-in-law.”
Harkan’s face went purple. “That’s a completely unfounded accusation?—”
“Is it?” Her voice remained perfectly calm. “I have the registration documents here, if you’d like to review them. The chain of ownership is quite clear.”
“The investment was sound,” Marina interjected smoothly. “Whatever the peripheral connections, Meridian’s performance has exceeded projections?—”
“Has it?” Ember cut her off with a gesture that would have been rude from anyone else. From the head of the table, it was simply authority. “Because according to these figures, Meridian has underperformed its guarantees by twelve percent. The shortfall has been covered by… let me see…” She made a show of consulting the display. “Ah, yes. By emergency transfers from our reserve fund. Transfers that were approved by the CEO without board oversight, as per the amended authorization protocols.”
He watched Marina’s face carefully. The woman was good—her expression remained gracious and concerned, with just a hint of confusion, as if she couldn’t imagine what Ember was suggesting. But he’d spent years reading the subtle signals of potential enemies, and he saw what she was hiding beneath that polished surface.
Fear,he realized with grim satisfaction. She’s afraid. Ember has her off-balance, and she doesn’t know how to recover.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Marina said. “If you’d like, I can have my assistant pull the relevant documentation?—”
“That won’t be necessary. I have all the documentation I need.” Ember’s gaze swept the table, pausing on each face in turn. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not here to make accusations or assign blame. I’m here to ensure that Duvain Enterprises operates with the integrity my father built into its foundation. To that end, I’ll be conducting a thorough review of all financial transactions over the past three years.”
Murmurs rippled around the table. He tracked them—which voices carried notes of concern, which carried relief, which remained carefully neutral.
The heavyset woman—Director Montgomery, he remembered from Ember’s briefing, no relation to the dismissed security chief—cleared her throat. “Miss Duvain, if I may…”
“Please, Director.”
“I want to say—on behalf of those of us who remember your father’s vision—that we’re grateful to have you back.” The older woman’s expression was earnest, her voice steady. “Alexander Duvain built this company on principles of fairness and transparency. Some of us have been… concerned… that those principles have been eroded in recent months.”
Marina’s smile flickered almost imperceptibly.
“I appreciate that, Director Montgomery.” Ember inclined her head. “And I hope I can count on your support as we work to restore those principles.”
“You have it.”
The young man at the far end of the table—Director Allendale, Rykan recalled—spoke up next. “Miss Duvain, I’d like to second Director Montgomery’s sentiments. And I’d like to add that the engineering division has several proposals that were… deprioritized… over the past year. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to present them for your review.”
