The room watched. Waited.
"Elion's lean structure was intentional," I said, keeping my voice level. "We prioritized depth over breadth—specialists rather than generalists. The integration plan maintains that philosophy while leveraging Falkirk's existing resources for support functions. The details are outlined on page fourteen of the pre-read materials."
A few board members flipped to the page. Nathan didn't.
"Page fourteen," he repeated, amused. "Must have missed that."
"It was in the distribution Tuesday," Alicia said without looking up. "Along with the appendices."
Nathan's expression tightened—barely perceptible—before the smirk slid back into place. "My mistake."
The meeting moved on. But the undercurrent didn't.
Twenty minutes later, he struck again.
"Emma, quick clarification—"
"Ms. Sinclair," I corrected. The words left my mouth before I could weigh them.
Silence rippled across the table.
Nathan's eyes glittered. "Apologies." He stretched the word like taffy. "Ms. Sinclair. I just wanted to confirm the revenue attribution model. Your projections show a fifteen percent bump in Q3, but I'm not seeing the underlying assumptions."
"The assumptions are based on historical performance data cross-referenced with Falkirk's market penetration in adjacent sectors." I didn't blink. "I'd be happy to walk you through the methodology after the meeting if you'd like."
"That won't be necessary." He waved a hand, dismissive. "I'm sure it's all very... thorough."
The condescension hung in the air like smoke.
I didn't flinch.
Farnsworth cleared his throat. "I think what Nathan is asking—perhaps inelegantly—is whether these projections account for integration friction. Mergers of this scale often see temporary dips before synergies materialize."
I turned to face him directly, grateful for the lifeline even as I recognized it for what it was: a test of its own.
"They do," I said. "Page sixteen includes a sensitivity analysis with three scenarios—optimistic, baseline, and conservative. The conservative model assumes a twenty percent friction coefficient in the first two quarters, tapering to five percent by Q4." I paused, letting the numbers land. "Even under those conditions, ROI remains positive within eighteen months."
Farnsworth held my gaze.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Thorough indeed, Ms. Sinclair."
Not relief—not quite. Acknowledgment. Recognition that I'd cleared a bar some of them had hoped I'd trip over.
Nathan's mask didn't slip.
But I caught the flicker of irritation beneath it.
Good.
The meeting continued for another hour. I spoke when called upon, defended my projections, deflected two more of Nathan's "clarifications" with data and composure. By the time Damien called for adjournment, my neck ached from tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"Thank you all," Damien said, closing his folder. "I think we covered significant ground today. Ms. Sinclair, a word before you go?"
A few heads turned. Nathan's smirk sharpened.
"Of course, Mr. Holt."
