"I have one,” my brother says, in a tone that’s measured, deliberate. The CEO voice, not the brother voice.
Oh fuck. Here it comes.
"You told this board you've changed. That you've learned to work within the system instead of around it." He pauses, his gaze locked on mine. "But the Williams visit—that was three weeks ago. After everything that's happened. After all your promises." His voice drops. "So my question is simple: Have you actually changed, or have you just gotten better at justifying the same behavior?"
The room goes very still. Several board members exchange glances.
Hartwell’s practically vibrating with satisfaction.
Defend yourself. Make excuses.
Heat rises in my chest, but I take a breath. Count to three.
"Have I changed?" I lean back, and for once, I don't have a slick answer ready. "I've had a lot of hard truths hit me since I moved to Quebec. It made me hold up a mirror and actually look at what I've been doing."
I glance at the board members, then back at Sebastian.
"The Williams visit—you're right, that was my old playbook. See a problem, handle it alone, control the outcome. But the environmental response? We handled that as a team. I didn't go rogue on that. I consulted, collaborated, let other people have the reins."
I pause.
"So have I changed? I'm trying to. I'm learning that handing over control can be more powerful than holding it with an iron fist. But old instincts don't die overnight." I meet Sebastian's eyes. "I can't promise I won't stumble. But I can promise I'm finally seeing the pattern and working to break it."
The room is quiet.
Sebastian stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sits back.
I have no idea if I just convinced him or confirmed every reason he has to vote me out.
My heart pounds as I sit back in my seat.
I didn't make excuses. Didn't manipulate. Didn't destroy Hartwell when I had the chance.
I just told them the truth.
Madison was right. I really do suck at being Louis Blackstone.
Whether that's enough, I'm about to find out.
"I vote he stays," Lillianna tells the room.
"Big surprise," Hartwell mutters.
My shoulders drop half an inch. One vote down. Seven to go.
"Warren?"
Hartwell’s smile is thin, satisfied. "He goes. The company needs leadership in acquisitions we can trust."
His vote lands like an expected blow. I keep my expression neutral.
"Elena?"
She sets her pen on the table with deliberate care. "He stays. His acquisitions saved us during the bourbon shortage. The Copper Creek deal alone was worth keeping him."
Two to one. My lungs remember how to work.
"Tom?"
