Chapter 153 Chapter 153
Liana’s POV
They say boardrooms are sterile and cold but this one feels like a battlefield. The long glass table gleams like a mirror, reflecting faces that used to nod when I spoke, used to smile when I entered the room. Now, they look at me like I’m a liability.
A storm is gathering behind every polite expression. I can feel it in the air and the hum of restraint, the sharpened edges of words not yet spoken.
“Let’s bring this meeting to order,” says Clara Lin, our interim chair. Her tone is brittle, too precise. “The motion on the table concerns the question of leadership stability within Z-Core Holdings.”
My fingers tighten around the pen in my hand. Leadership stability. That’s their sanitized term for a coup.
It started two days ago and whispers in the hallways, phone calls that stopped when I walked in. Then the formal notice, a board review of my capacity to lead and now here I am standing trial in the same room where I rebuilt this company from its ashes.
Clara gestures toward the screens mounted on the far wall. Charts. Reports. Headlines. My supposed “instability” presented in high-definition.
CEO missing from Zurich investor summit.
Unverified rumors of personal misconduct.
Internal audit reveals unauthorized data access.
The last one hits hardest. Unauthorized access, they mean my father’s drives. They mean I touched the ghosts no one was supposed to touch.
“Ms. Smith” Clara continues, “the board is concerned about your recent behavior. Disappearing without notice. Erratic communication. Questionable financial movements between subsidiaries.”
She folds her hands. “And of course, the ongoing personal distractions.”
My pulse spikes. “Personal distractions?”
“You’ve been seen in contact with Dominic Hale,” she says smoothly. “Your ex-husband, a convicted felon, albeit with a sealed record. It raises concerns.”
The room shifts murmurs ripple, the kind that sting worse than accusations. I meet Clara’s gaze. “What I do outside these walls is my business.”
“Not when it compromises shareholder confidence.”
I take a breath. “You’re not worried about confidence. You’re worried about control. Stanley’s not here to pull your strings anymore, and you’re scrambling.”
A hush falls. Clara’s expression doesn’t flicker, but a few board members exchange uneasy glances.
I straighten, steady. “You can question my choices, my decisions, my marriage history but not my results. Z-Core has grown twelve percent under my tenure. We survived the audit Stanley buried.
We innovated through a market crash and the only instability I see is the panic in this room now that I’m not taking his orders.”
Clara leans back in her chair, voice smooth as silk. “We’re voting today, Ms. Smith. Whether you remain CEO will be determined by majority decision.”
I swallow the rising anger, forcing myself to stay composed. “How many votes?”
“Nine board members. You have three in your favor. Five against. One abstaining.”
I already know who that abstaining vote is, the mystery shareholder who appeared three months ago, quietly buying up controlling interest through shell entities. Stanley called him a ghost in the system, he never said his name.
“Before we proceed,” Clara says, “our final shareholder representative has joined the call.”
The lights dim slightly as the large monitor flickers to life. A blank screen. Then a voice distorted, low, electronically masked.
“Representative for Northbridge Holdings present.”
My breath catches, Northbridge. That name. I’ve seen it before embedded in metadata, tied to my father’s encrypted files and recently, in one of the messages Dominic sent me.
For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe. “Mr. Northbridge,” Clara says, “you hold the deciding vote. Your decision will determine the future leadership of Z-Core.” The voice replies, calm and measured. “Proceed.”
I look around the room, nine faces, none looking directly at me. They’ve already decided. All that’s left is the formality. Clara nods to the secretary. “All in favor of removal, raise your hand.”
Five hands rise. She glances at the others. “All opposed?”
Three hands, my last allies lift hesitantly. Then all eyes turn toward the screen. My pulse hammers in my ears. For a long moment, there’s only silence.
Then the voice says, “Before I vote, I’d like to ask Ms. Smith one question.”
Clara frowns, caught off guard. “Go ahead.”
The speaker’s tone softens slightly not the robotic detachment of a stranger, but the measured cadence of someone who knows me.
“Liana,” the voice says. “Why do you think they want you gone?”
The sound of my name not “Ms. Smith” but Liana freezes me, I know that voice. Even filtered, even disguised. I’d know it anywhere.
“Because I’m not afraid to tell the truth,” I say quietly. “And because I know what they’ve done.”
“And what have they done?”
“They built this company on blood and silence.” My voice doesn’t shake. “My father, Stanley, the men before them, they traded people like assets. They buried names. They bought loyalty and I found the proof.”
The room shifts uncomfortably. Clara starts to interject, but the voice cuts her off.
“Proof?”
I reach into my bag and pull out one of the drives, the same one that shows Stanley carrying Elia away. I place it on the table. “This contains the truth about Z-Core’s founding deals. You remove me, and it goes public.”
Clara’s face pales. “That’s a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
Then the voice says, almost gently, “Understood.”
A pause stretches long enough to feel like forever. Then the synthetic distortion fades slightly just enough for a trace of the real voice to bleed through. Dominic.
“Northbridge votes against removal.”
The boardroom erupts. Clara’s composure fractures, the other members whispering urgently. I stay perfectly still, eyes locked on the screen. Dominic’s alias. He’s been here all along, the ghost shareholder and the deciding vote.
Clara finally regains her voice. “The vote stands. Six to five. Ms. Smith retains her position.” I exhale slowly, but the victory tastes strange — metallic, laced with danger.
Dominic speaks once more. “The board should reconsider its loyalties. The storm isn’t over.” The screen goes dark. For a long time, no one moves.
Then Clara gathers her papers, voice clipped. “Meeting adjourned.”
As the others file out, I stay seated, staring at the drive on the table. My hands are steady now. He saved me,?Again but not out of sentiment, out of strategy.
Dominic doesn’t do anything without a reason. If he’s in the board, he’s playing the long game not just against Stanley, but the entire system built to hide him and that means I’m part of the boardroom war whether I want to be or not.
When the last person leaves, I whisper to the empty room,
“Why, Dominic?”
But the only answer is the faint hum of the monitor cooling down, and the echo of his words replaying in my mind.
The storm isn’t over.