The crowd surged, microphones thrust forward, camera flashes popping.
I turned to face the press—controlled, steady, letting silence fall just long enough to tighten the air itself. “Elion and Falkirk will be holding a joint press conference,” I said, voice carrying cleanly. “2:00 p.m. this afternoon at Falkirk headquarters.”
Every reporter went still. The hunger was palpable.
“At that time,” I continued, “we will provide a full update regarding the breach, the source of the misinformation, and the steps we’ve taken to protect our partners and the public.”
The murmurs started.
Flashes strobed.
A wall of questions rose.
I didn’t answer any of them. I didn’t need to. Their questions meant nothing without my answers.
Security closed in as I crossed the plaza, the noise of the press fading behind reinforced glass. The lobby swallowed the chaos whole—marble floors, steel columns, a crisp hum of controlled efficiency.
I straightened my jacket as I walked, steps echoing across the polished stone. I’d already put this day into motion. The moment Phil told me the plan was set—servers mirrored, evidence secured, Davidson contained—I’d made the call. Board meeting. 8:00 a.m. sharp. Mandatory attendance.
No excuses.
No delays.
The notification had gone out while Emma was still sleeping in my bed—peaceful, unaware of the war I was about to wage for her.
They were already assembled in their typical seats when I walked in. “I’m sure you all know why we’re here,” I said without preamble.
“Give us the documents, Holt.” Nathan yawned, not even trying to hide his disdain at the early hour.
“Of course.”
I took my seat as my assistant rushed in, arms stacked with packets, distributing them efficiently along the table.
“You’re receiving three sets,” I said. “The first is Elion’s accurate and fully verified audit numbers.”
Pages flipped. Expressions shifted from skepticism to something sharper.
A smile threatened; I swallowed it down.
Farnsworth let out a low whistle. “These numbers are impressive.”
Alicia and Linda were already leaning forward, eyes darting between columns, recalculating valuation in real time.
Ashford cleared his throat. “How were these verified?”
“Through a third party,” I said simply. “Full methodology is attached.”
I left out the part where the auditing firm belonged to Phil. Well—one of his aliases.
Mouths curved.
Only a few remained stubbornly neutral.
“What was the deal with the document leak then?” Richter asked, face pinched. “Where did those come from?”
“They were leaked by one of Elion’s investors,” I said. “Gregory Davidson. The investigation confirmed the files originated from Ms. Sinclair’s computer before being altered and released by him.”
“Bullshit,” Nathan scoffed. “Why the hell would he do something like that?”
