He stays. He sits in the chair and doesn't touch me and doesn't push. His scent fills the room and the bond marks respond whether I want them to or not.
Amos brings me water at four without commentary and refills my coffee at five. At six he orders food, sets a plate in front of me, and returns to his laptop.
"You're both doing it." I say it around a mouthful of pad thai. "The proving thing. You're already doing it."
"We said we would." Amos doesn't look up from his screen.
"I said figure it out and you figured it out in less than twelve hours."
"We figured out the easy part." Dominic's voice comes from the chair where he hasn't moved in three hours. "The hard part is doing it long enough that you stop keeping score."
"I'm going to keep score for a very long time."
"Good." He meets my eyes across the room. "I'd rather you keep score than pretend it's fine."
Dominic
Theboardroomisfullwhen we arrive at nine. Fourteen board members are seated around the same table where I fucked Mattaniah during a spike six days ago. The thought crosses my mind as I set the presentation folders at my place. This is not the time. The table has been cleaned. New water glasses sit at each seat. Father is at the head in his usual position, his suit pressed,his hands folded on the table. He's going to let his accusers speak first.
Amos sets up the projector while I distribute the folders. Three copies of the forensic evidence, bound and tabbed. Each one contains eighteen months of financial documentation tracing two point four million dollars from Hale Industries into Meridian Holdings, a shell company that belongs only to Richard Hale.
"Thank you all for coming on short notice." Amos addresses the room. "What we're about to show you is the result of several months of forensic financial analysis."
I watch Father's face while Amos talks. His expression holds through the first three slides. By slide four his jaw has tightened enough that I can see the muscle jumping. By slide six his composure cracks. Amos is displaying the incorporation documents for Meridian alongside the bank statements showing Father as the sole authorized signatory.
"These documents are fabricated." Father's voice cuts through the presentation with a certainty that would convince anyone who hadn't spent months verifying every line. "My sons have a personal vendetta against me and they've manufactured evidence to support it."
"The bank records were obtained directly from the institution under a legal subpoena." Amos clicks to the next slide, which displays the subpoena documentation. "The incorporation filings were pulled from the Delaware Secretary of State's office. The transfer authorizations bear your electronic signature, which our forensic team has verified against samples from authenticated company documents."
Father's eyes move to me. The rage in them is familiar. I've been on the receiving end of that look since childhood. But underneath the rage sits something I've never seen from him before, and it looks like fear.
"This is retaliation." Father addresses the board rather than us. "My sons are angry because I objected to their relationship with my stepson. This is a personal attack dressed up as corporate governance."
"The forensic analysis began eight months before Mattaniah arrived in your household." I keep my voice level. "The timeline is documented in the materials in front of you. Amos flagged the first irregularity in April. Mattaniah didn't move into the house until September."
"The timeline doesn't change the motivation." Father leans forward. "You've been looking for a way to remove me since you were old enough to resent me. This is your opportunity and you're using a financial audit to mask what is fundamentally a family dispute."
"Mr. Hale." The board chair, a woman named Garrett, lifts her head from the documents. "The evidence will need to be reviewed by outside counsel before the board can take action. I'm tabling the final vote for forty-eight hours pending legal review."
"The evidence is fraudulent." Father's voice rises for the first time and the sound shifts something in the room. Three board members exchange glances. Another closes her folder. She's already made her decision.
"Forty-eight hours." Garrett repeats it and the room accepts it. "Both parties will refrain from contact with board members during the review period. The vote will take place Thursday at nine."
Father stands. He buttons his jacket and the gesture carries none of the deliberate composure it held at the mansion. His fingers fumble the second button and I notice.
"This isn't over." He says it directly to me as he passes my chair.
"Yes." I hold his gaze. "It is."
He leaves. The silence that follows fills the room. Garrett asks Amos three follow-up questions about the subpoena process. The meeting dissolves in stages, each member leaving with a folder under their arm.
Amos packs the projector while I collect the remaining folders. Neither of us speaks until the boardroom is empty.
"Forty-eight hours." Amos slides his laptop into its case.
"The outcome is decided. The forty-eight hours is legal cover." I stack the folders and tuck them under my arm. "Garrett knew the evidence was legitimate before we finished the first section. She's tabling for due diligence, not because she has doubts."
"Father is going to use those forty-eight hours."
