"The footage that went live." He doesn't look comfortable saying it. People shift in their seats. "Your involvement in that club. The lifestyle you've chosen. It's public knowledge now. That affects how investors and partners view this company."
They all watched it. They all saw the edited photos of me that violate every assumption they held about their CEO.
"I was stalked and violated. That's not a choice I made. That's a crime someone committed against me."
Another board member speaks up. Margaret Sullivan. "But the lifestyle itself is a choice. And now it's public. The footage shows activities that most of our investors and partners would find... unconventional. We have to consider how that impacts our reputation."
"My private, consensual activities have no bearing on my ability to lead this company. If you're suggesting otherwise, you're saying my competence as CEO depends on conforming to your personal moral standards rather than delivering professional results."
Patricia's voice cuts in, smooth and sympathetic. "Simone, no one is questioning your competence. We're concerned about optics. About perception. The board has a fiduciary duty to protect this company's interests. Right now, the media attention is damaging our reputation."
"Then the board should be addressing the media narrative, not questioning my leadership."
"No one is questioning your leadership," Patricia says. "We're asking whether this board can continue to function effectively under these circumstances. Whether some of us stepping aside might be better for the company."
"Stepping aside." I let the word hang there. "You mean resigning in protest."
"That's not what I'm suggesting."
"Isn't it?" I stand. The boardroom goes quiet. "Let me be clear about what's actually happening here. My uncle orchestrated a criminal conspiracy to destroy me so he could take control of this company. He failed. The FBI arrested him. He's facing federal charges. I won. But now some of you want to finish what he started by abandoning ship and creating a public spectacle."
I move around the table, commanding the room the way I've commanded it for years.
"You're not concerned about my judgment. You're uncomfortable with my private life becoming public. That's not the same thing. My judgment built this company's success. My judgment doubled our revenue through aggressive expansion and strategic acquisitions. Those are facts. Measurable results."
I stop at the head of the table, facing Voss directly.
"What happened to me was a violation. Someone installed surveillance equipment in a private club and used it to document my most intimate moments. Then someone leaked that footage to destroy my career. I didn't choose that. I didn't invite it. I was the victim of a crime."
My voice hardens. "And if this board walks away because I was victimized, you're telling every woman in this industry that private consensual choices make them vulnerable to professional consequences. You're telling attackers that their tactics work. You're completing the assault my uncle started."
The room is absolutely silent.
"I acknowledge the exposure. I acknowledge the media attention. What I refuse to acknowledge is shame. I've done nothing wrong. I engaged in private, consensual activities in a space designed for privacy. The violation of that privacy was criminal. The only people who should be ashamed are the ones who committed those crimes and the ones trying to profit from them."
I look directly at Patricia.
"My record speaks for itself. Revenue doubled. Strategic acquisitions. Company thriving. Those are the metrics that matter when you're evaluating leadership. Not private life. Not consensual choices. Results."
I return to my seat. "I own fifty-one percent of this company. You can resign if you want, but I'm not going anywhere. So you need to decide: are you going to work with me to addressthis crisis, or are you going to make it worse by creating more drama?"
Every board member stares at me. Some look horrified. Others impressed. Patricia watches me with an expression I can't read, something calculating behind her eyes.
Voss clears his throat. "Thank you, Ms. LaCroix. Does anyone else wish to speak before we vote?"
No one does.
"Then we'll proceed. The question before the board: do we express confidence in Simone LaCroix's continued leadership of LaCroix Petroleum?"
He starts the roll call. Each board member votes in turn.
Henry Castellanos. "Yes."
Patricia Moreau. "No." Her voice is cool, unsurprised.
Walter Brandt hesitates. "Yes."
Margaret Sullivan. "No."
