If they were here with me now, I'd feel invincible.
But I was alone.
"Ms. Sinclair." Richard Farnsworth rose from his seat to my left, extending a hand. His grip was firm as he assessed me. "Glad you could join us."
"Thank you, Mr. Farnsworth. I'm honored to be here."
He studied me a moment longer than necessary, calculation flickering behind his eyes. Then he nodded once and returned to his seat.
I took the empty chair beside a woman I recognized from company leadership photos—the leather cold through my dress. Beside me sat Alicia Morgan, sharp-featured, watching me with a focus that made me want to check my teeth for spinach.
"Ms. Sinclair," she said, offering a measured smile. "I've heard impressive things about Elion's infrastructure. Looking forward to seeing it in action."
"Thank you. I'm looking forward to the collaboration."
Linda Cavanaugh further down the line gave me a quick nod, eyes assessing.
Across the table, Nathan leaned back in his chair, arms folded, a smirk already curling at the corner of his mouth. Flanking him: a row of men in expensive suits, each one radiating varying degrees of skepticism.
Gerald Ashford. Scott Lang. James Richter. Paul Shore.
I'd memorized their names, their positions, their voting histories. Damien had sent me a file—discreet, thorough—and I'd studied it like my life depended on it.
Because in a room like this, it might.
"Shall we begin?" Damien's voice cut through the murmur of conversation, commanding attention without raising his volume. "We have a full agenda, but first—" His attention swept the table, landing on me with practiced neutrality. "I'd like to formally welcome our newest board member, Emma Sinclair, CEO of Elion. As part of the merger terms, Ms. Sinclair holds a voting seat on this board, effective immediately."
A ripple passed through the room. Some nods—polite, measured. A few exchanged glances I couldn't read.
Nathan's smirk didn't waver.
"Welcome, Ms. Sinclair," he said, raising his coffee cup in a small salute. "We look forward to your contributions."
"Thank you." I kept my voice steady, my smile professional. "I'm glad to be here."
Even if half of you wish I wasn't.
The thought stayed behind my teeth where it belonged.
"Now," Damien continued, flipping open his folder, "let's move to the first item."
Papers shuffled. Laptops opened. The energy in the room shifted from social to strategic.
I kept my spine straight and my expression neutral. Damien's words from last night replaying in my mind.
You belong here. You earned this. Don't let them see you sweat.
The first hour was standard—quarterly projections, division updates. I took notes. Asked a few pointed questions when the discussion touched on tech integration. Watched the room's dynamics shift and settle like tides.
Then the conversation turned to infrastructure.
"The latency issues in the APAC region are bleeding us dry," Shore said, flipping through his notes with the energy of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. "Our current provider can't scale fast enough. We're looking at a twelve-week backlog on server upgrades alone."
"Fourteen," Lang corrected. "As of yesterday."
A murmur of frustration rippled through Nathan's side of the table.
I glanced at my notes. At the numbers I'd pulled from Elion's integration proposal. At the solution sitting right there, waiting.
