Chapter 86 up
“Is everyone connected?”
The project secretary’s voice echoed slightly through the speakers of the conference room. The large screen on the wall still displayed a grid of black rectangles, each labeled with the names of participants whose cameras had yet to turn on. Nyla stood at the head of the long table, both hands resting lightly on the wooden surface. Her fingers stopped moving the moment one name lit up in the corner of the screen.
Selena R. — External Consultant.
The box showed no face. Only initials and a muted camera icon.
“Yes,” Nyla replied shortly. She pulled out her chair and sat down, her back straight, posture composed. Around the table, a few heads subtly turned toward the screen. Vincent sat two seats away from her, his jaw tightening, his eyes fixed on that single name as if it were a loaded weapon.
“All right,” the secretary continued. “Let’s begin.”
One by one, cameras turned on. Familiar faces appeared—client directors, regional managers, senior analysts. Then, at the very last second, Selena’s camera activated.
She appeared with flawless lighting. The background behind her was neutral: a soft gray wall, adorned with a single abstract painting. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, a cream-colored blazer fitting perfectly over her shoulders. Her expression was calm, almost warm, with a measured, practiced smile.
“Good morning,” Selena said. Her voice was clear, her rhythm unhurried. “Thank you for having me.”
Nyla looked straight at the screen. That face—unchanged in essence. More refined, more polished. But the slight tilt of Selena’s chin, the way her eyes lingered a fraction of a second longer toward Nyla’s camera—those details were unmistakably familiar.
“Good morning,” Nyla replied. Her tone was neutral. She neither smiled nor hardened.
“I’m glad we finally get to work together,” Selena continued. “I’ve been following Project Aurora for quite some time. The presentation was… ambitious.”
The last word slid out softly, almost like praise. Almost.
“Ambition is necessary for expansion,” Nyla replied, folding her hands on the table. “Especially if tangible results are the goal.”
Selena gave a small nod, as if agreeing. “Of course. However, ambition without ethical support often ends up—”
She paused, glancing down at her notes, then continued with a polite smile.
“—less sustainable.”
The air in the room tightened, even though no one spoke. Vincent shifted his pen; the sound was louder than it should have been.
The client director chuckled lightly, attempting to ease the tension. “That’s precisely why we brought in an external consultant. An additional perspective.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” Selena said smoothly. “To offer an objective view.”
Objective. Nyla held her breath for half a second.
“All right,” Nyla said, clicking the remote. A risk analysis slide appeared on the screen. “Let’s move to the core discussion. Phase two of this project will require restructuring local partnerships. We’ve prepared mitigation scenarios.”
Selena tilted her head slightly. “I’ve read the documents.”
“And?” Nyla asked.
“Interesting,” Selena replied. “But there are parts that raise questions for me.”
She lifted a printed page. “For example, the reassignment of vendor contracts. Legally sound, yes. But in terms of public perception—”
She shrugged lightly.
“—it could be interpreted as unilateral displacement.”
One of the regional managers looked uneasy. Nyla caught it from the corner of her eye.
“We’ve consulted with our legal team,” Nyla said. “And with the vendors involved.”
“Of course,” Selena responded quickly. “I don’t doubt the procedure. I’m only asking—did all parties feel heard?”
The word feel was spoken gently, like cotton. But its impact was sharp.
Nyla leaned forward slightly. “We conducted three open forums. The minutes are documented.”
“They are,” Selena nodded. “But presence doesn’t always equal agreement.”
Silence fell.
Vincent opened his mouth, but Nyla raised her hand, stopping him without looking his way.
“If you have concrete recommendations,” Nyla said calmly, “we’re open to hearing them.”
Selena smiled. A professional smile. “Certainly. My recommendation is simple—additional transparency. A more empathetic public statement.”
She looked directly into the camera. “Especially given that this company’s reputation is currently under scrutiny.”
Several pairs of eyes turned toward Nyla now. Not accusatory. Just waiting.
Nyla felt warmth creep up the back of her neck. She straightened her shoulders.
“We’ve always prioritized reputation,” she said. “And we won’t sacrifice integrity for optics.”
“Good,” Selena replied. “Because sometimes—”
She paused, then smiled thinner.
“—people who are very focused on results forget how the way they achieve them appears from the outside.”
It wasn’t a direct attack. No names. No accusations. Yet Nyla felt it like cold fingers brushing her skin.
She didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she clicked to the next slide and let the data speak. Charts, figures, projections. She explained each point steadily, step by step. Her hands didn’t shake. Her voice didn’t waver. Inside, however, she counted her breaths carefully.
Selena listened attentively. Occasionally taking notes. Occasionally nodding.
When Nyla finished, Selena spoke again.
“A solid presentation,” she said. “I only hope the leadership approach applied on the ground aligns with these numbers.”
Vincent finally couldn’t hold back. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Selena turned her gaze to Vincent’s camera, her smile unchanged. “Only that workplace culture often reflects decisions made at the top.”
Nyla glanced briefly at Vincent, then back to the screen.
“We’re open to an audit,” she said. “If that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Selena lifted an eyebrow, appearing impressed. “That level of courage deserves appreciation.”
She smiled wider this time.
“Of course, audits also mean reopening old matters. And not everyone is comfortable with that.”
The words hung in the air.
The meeting ended with agreements for follow-up actions. One by one, cameras shut off. Selena’s face turned into a black rectangle again. But just before it disappeared, Nyla caught one last detail—Selena’s eyes fixed on the camera, and her lips curved slightly. Not a friendly smile, but the smile of someone who knew her position was secure.
The screen went dark.
The conference room felt quieter than before.
Vincent stood up. “She was baiting you.”
Nyla remained seated. She opened her notebook and neatly aligned the papers inside. Her movements were slow, controlled.
“She didn’t cross any lines,” Nyla said at last. “That’s the problem.”
“She planted doubt,” Vincent said. “In front of the client.”
Nyla nodded once. “And if I reacted emotionally, I’d be the one who looked unstable.”
She stood and picked up her bag.
“She’s operating in ethical territory,” Nyla continued. “Not open conflict.”
Vincent looked at her for a long moment. “You’re cornered.”
Nyla turned to him. There was no anger on her face. Only cold resolve.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
She walked toward the door. As her hand reached the handle, her phone vibrated.
A new message. Unknown number.
Selena:
It was nice finally having a professional discussion. Small world, isn’t it?
Nyla stared at the screen without blinking.
Then, slowly, she turned off her phone.