The Final Vote

The Final Vote
POV Sage Winters

Thorne's expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air—a subtle weight that made everyone's wolf instincts prickle. His eyes flashed gold for just a heartbeat before returning to his amber.

"Mr. Winters is currently meeting with attorneys," he said coolly, each word deliberate. "They're discussing his involvement in several serious matters—misappropriation of a minor's inheritance, embezzlement of company funds, abuse of guardianship authority, and fraud."

Bennett's face went from purple to ashen. Patricia's pen clattered onto her notepad, the sound sharp in the sudden silence.

Thorne reached into his briefcase with unhurried movements and withdrew a thick manila folder, placing it on the table with deliberate precision. The sound of paper against wood was unnaturally loud.

"These documents detail a comprehensive legal case that will be filed with Greywood District Court tomorrow morning," he continued, his tone never rising but somehow filling every corner of the room. "The charges include systematic embezzlement spanning fourteen years, fraudulent misrepresentation of trust arrangements, child endangerment, and conspiracy to defraud a minor heir."

He paused, letting that sink in. Mitchell had gone completely still, his financial spreadsheets forgotten. Graham's earlier enthusiasm had transformed into careful neutrality.

"I want to be absolutely clear," Thorne continued, steel beneath professional courtesy. "Anyone who continues to obstruct Ms. Winters' legal rights, anyone who actively protects or enables Ronan Winters' criminal behavior, will be considered complicit in those crimes."

David Lin actually pushed his chair back slightly, as if physical distance could protect him from association.

"Furthermore," Thorne added, his gaze sweeping the room with Alpha precision, "Ashford Group maintains strict ethical standards in all our business partnerships. We conduct thorough background checks on companies and individuals we work with. We do not associate with entities that harbor individuals facing criminal prosecution."

The implication hung in the air like smoke. Partner with us and profit, or stand with Ronan and lose everything.

Bennett opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. No words came out. Patricia was rapidly taking notes, probably calculating her own legal exposure.

"I believe we have sufficient information to proceed," I said, reclaiming control of the meeting. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'd like to call for a formal vote on three motions. First, official recognition of the stock transfer. Second, authorization to recruit a CEO with appropriate operational experience. Third, approval to enter preliminary partnership discussions with Ashford Group."

I looked around the table, meeting each person's eyes. "All in favor of proceeding, please indicate now."

Graham's hand shot up immediately. "I'm in favor. Working with Ashford Group could triple our market value within two years."

Mitchell raised his hand firmly. "From a financial analysis perspective, this represents the best path forward. The stock transfer is legally sound, and the Ashford partnership offers unprecedented growth potential."

One by one, hands rose around the table. Rosalie. Chapman. A younger woman I hadn't been introduced to yet. Within thirty seconds, thirteen hands were raised.

Only three remained down—Bennett, David, and Howard, sitting rigid with faces ranging from furious to terrified.

"Motion to vote carries with thirteen in favor, three opposed," Gloria announced from her position by the screen. "Proceeding to individual votes."

The stock transfer passed thirteen-to-three. The CEO authorization passed fourteen-to-two, Howard choosing self-preservation. The Ashford partnership framework passed thirteen-to-three again.

Each time Gloria called the results, I felt another chain falling away. My mother had built this company from nothing, and Ronan had stolen it. Now it was finally coming back.

"All motions have passed," I announced. "Effective immediately, Silverpine Global enters a new operational phase. Over the next quarter, we'll transition to professional management while maintaining the product quality my mother established."

I stood, and everyone else rose automatically. "My mother spent ten years building this company. She created jobs, developed products that helped people, and established a reputation for excellence. I will not let that legacy be destroyed by greed and corruption."

I bowed deeply. "We'll let our results speak for themselves. This meeting is adjourned."

Bennett was first to stand, shoving his chair back hard enough that it rolled and bumped the wall. At the door, he turned back, giving me a look of pure venom—not just anger but genuine hatred. Then he was gone, David and Howard trailing behind.

After handshakes and congratulations, the last shareholders filtered out. Gloria lingered near the door with a professional smile.

"Congratulations, Ms. Winters. That was masterfully handled. I'll have the CEO position specifications sent by end of day."

"Thank you, Gloria. Your support meant everything."

She departed, and finally alone, I sank into the nearest chair. The adrenaline that had been sustaining me drained away all at once, leaving my hands trembling.

Thorne's hand came to rest on my shoulder, grounding me. The touch was warm, solid, real. "You did it."

"We did it," I corrected, looking up at him.

My phone buzzed, cutting off the thought. I glanced at the screen. "Uncle Caius."

Thorne's expression shifted slightly—not jealous exactly, but watchful. He'd met my mentor uncle only briefly at Marcus's estate.

I answered, putting it on speaker. "Uncle Caius, hi."

"Little Sage," came that familiar deep voice, rough and warm. "Where have you been hiding? I stopped by Ashford Estate to visit Marcus yesterday and didn't see you."

Guilt pricked at me. "Sorry, Uncle. Thorne and I came back to Greywood to deal with my mother's estate. We just finished the shareholder meeting."

"Ah, reclaiming what's yours from that bastard Ronan." Caius made a satisfied sound. "Did he make trouble?"

"He tried, but Thorne helped. Ronan signed over the shares this morning."

"That Ashford boy must have put real pressure on him. Good." There was approval in Caius's voice. "You chose well, little one."

Warmth spread through my chest at the praise. Coming from Caius, who trusted almost no one, that meant everything.

"So what's up, Uncle? You don't usually call just to check in."

"Actually, I'm calling about Lyanna. That granddaughter of hers—Vivienne—brought in someone new to help with her care."

I straightened immediately. "Someone new? But you already arranged professional care."

"A friend, apparently. Young woman named Elena. Medical background, just back from studying abroad. Supposedly she's about to participate in some medical conference here in Greywood."

I frowned, remembering Vivienne's hostility. "But why? Is this friend of hers more trustworthy than you?"

"More specifically, little Sage, she doesn't trust you," Caius said dryly. "She saw you treating Lyanna, heard the praise, and got threatened. So she brought in her own expert."

Memory flashed—Vivienne's face twisted with hostility when she'd accused me of orchestrating everything for family favor. Edwin ordering her out while tears of frustrated rage streamed down her face.

Now she was using her grandmother's care as a battlefield to undermine me.

"Is this Elena competent at least? Because if Vivienne is playing games with Lyanna's health—"

"Peace, little wolf," Caius interrupted with amusement. "The girl is arrogant as hell, but she has genuine skill. I've observed her work. Not on your level, but competent enough not to cause harm."

That should have reassured me. It didn't. "Will you keep an eye on things anyway? Lyanna helped me before. I don't want her caught in family politics."

"Already doing it," Caius confirmed. "Oh, speaking of which..." His tone shifted to mischief. "That medical conference I mentioned? It's the Winterhold Medical Conference. Very prestigious. Invitation only."

I waited, suspicious.

"I was invited to present a keynote," he said, his tone putting me on alert. "And I've already registered you as a participant."