Chapter 47 A Little Trust Will Do
Elena’s POV
Morning at Vale Corp always had this strange kind of beauty to it. But underneath the surface, this place hummed with tension.
Inside the executive boardroom, I sat at the long obsidian table, tablet in front of me, scrolling through proposals—they were words like liability, audit rights, and subsidiary oversight.
Across from me, Jack Roman leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows leaving his tattoos in sight, and pen tapping lightly against the table in a thoughtful rhythm.
He looked calm, but Jack’s calm was always deceptive because his mind was never still.
He finally leaned forward, pointing at the screen. “This clause here,” he said, his voice low and measured. “It’s solid… but it leaves a backdoor.”
My eyes narrowed slightly. “A backdoor for what?”
“For Sinclair,” he replied immediately. “They’ll push an audit midway through execution. They’ll call it due diligence.”
He scoffed softly, like the word itself offended him. “But they’re not auditing but angling.”
“For leverage,” I finished, already seeing it.
Jack’s gaze flickered up, sharp approval in his eyes. “Exactly.”
I stared at the clause again, feeling irritation bloom in my chest. Of course they would, Sinclair foundation never played fair.
“They always want their hands in the financials,” I muttered.
Jack nodded once. “Because numbers are power.”
I exhaled slowly before I looked up.
“Then we have to remove it.”
His brows lifted slightly.
I continued, my voice firm. “Draft a tighter replacement. Lock them out unless we breach first.”
Jack’s mouth curved into something almost like a smile—he looked satisfied.
“You’re catching onto their tricks faster than I expected,” he said.
I leaned back in my chair. “I’ve had excellent training.”
His eyes held mine for a second longer than necessary. Then there it was again... that current beneath the professionalism.
Jack stood, pushing his chair back, gathering the documents into a neat stack like he was resetting the world into order.
“I’ll have Legal adjust the terms,” he said, already moving. “Send it to you for a final look.”
Then, almost as an afterthought…
“You should eat something before the board meeting.”
I blinked, caught off guard. I raised a brow slowly. “You’re worried about my nutrition now?”
Jack smirked, completely unapologetic.
“I’m worried you’ll collapse mid-sentence and leave me to deal with the press vultures alone.”
A quiet but reluctant laugh escaped me. “You’d survive.”
“Barely.” His eyes flicked over me, something softer hiding behind the humor.
“But try not to make it harder than it has to be.”
And then he was gone, disappearing through the glass doors leaving behind the soft echo of his footsteps and the faint trace of his cologne.
Only when the door clicked shut did I realize I’d been holding my breath. I leaned back slowly, my gaze drifting toward the skyline outside.
"Jack..." I muttered under my breath.
My phone vibrated on the table once but I ignored it. Then it vibrated again and again making annoyance spark inside of me.
I glanced down at my phone absently and froze.
Richard Harrow.
His name lit up the screen like a warning flare and a scoff almost escaped the back of my throat.
He persistent, then again I knew he never called without purpose.
And the fact that he was calling today when everything felt volatile, close to rupture made my skin prickle.
I picked up the phone and my thumb hovered over the answer button. I could almost hear his voice already—that polished undertone of entitlement he never bothered to hide.
I decided against tapping the green button and waited for it until it cut off.
I stared at the black screen afterwards with a tight chest.
Not today Richard.
"Whatever game you're playing… you can play it alone." I mumbled at my phone screen.
Then I dropped the phone face-down and stood, adjusting the cuffs of my blazer like I could physically straighten the unease out of myself.
My focus had to remain on the board, on Portugal, on the proposal Jack was reworking, and on the shift I could feel among aliies and enemies alike.
Later, I stood at the head of the long boardroom table in the conference room staring at empty leather chairs that outnumbered the occupied ones.
The minimalist wall clock ticked steadily, marking seconds between one absent member and the next. So far, only six members sat before me—six out of eleven.
It was deliberate defiance. But I didn't like the disappointment show.
I adjusted the small gold pin on my blazer and nodded to my assistant. “Begin distributing the packets.”
She moved quietly, placing thin folders in front of each person. The few executives who bothered to appear, avoided looking too pleased with themselves.
They were waiting and wondering if I would falter.
But I didn’t need a full room to make my point. So I stepped forward slightly. “Let’s begin.”
The room stilled.
“I’ve asked for this meeting because I want transparency,” I said, gaze sweeping across them, “and I want accountability.”
A few shifted uncomfortably on their seats, maybe thinking I'd bring up Mark and my interest in the presidential position of Vale Corp.
I almost scoffed.
“As most of you are aware, Vale Corp’s European subsidiary in Portugal has been under internal review for the past quarter.”
I flipped a page, though I knew every word by heart. “The inconsistencies in financial reporting, missed performance targets, and the recent whispers about restructuring.”
I let the silence stretch. “Is enough to make it necessary to intervene—directly.”
Their eyes sharpened.
But I continued. “I’ve decided to travel there personally and oversee the review.”
There was silence for a moment before the murmurs came.
“She’s going herself?”
“Interesting choice…”
“She’s got guts…”
I didn’t flinch.
These were the same voices that once said I didn’t have what it took, that my rise to the executive position was temporary and decorative. Now they watched me weather storm after storm.
And still I stood.
“I know what this company’s backbone is made of,” I said evenly. “Portugal is one of our oldest outposts. It has survived economic crashes, international overhauls…”
I leaned forward slightly. “But lately, it’s shown signs of rot.”
There was a pause.
“Not from the outside.” My voice sharpened.
“But from within.”
The air felt heavier now.
“I don’t intend to let that continue.” I added.
Another silence.
Then, slowly, Mr. Zhao—grey-haired, long-standing, difficult to impress—gave a small nod.
“It’s rare,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “for a chairperson to go to that length.”
His eyes held mine. “But perhaps rare is what we need right now.”
Mrs. Halberg spoke next, cautious as always. “It’s commendable. I assume you’ll be reviewing leadership there directly?”
“I will,” I replied immediately. “From top to bottom.”
That sank in.
I guess respect didn’t arrive all at once. It forms slowly, in the cracks of their old doubts.
Zhao nodded again. “Then we wish you well.”
I inclined my head. “Thank you. I’ll be flying out next week.” I said as I closed the folder gently. “My team will remain here. Executive transitions will continue as planned in my absence. Any urgent matters will be addressed remotely.”
I scanned the room one last time and then closed the folder with a soft snap.
“If there are no further questions…”
A beat passed.
“Then this meeting is adjourned.”
The chairs creaked as they stood and before I knew it, the room emptied.
If not a lot, maybe there were only a few who still trust me.