Chapter 7 — The Boardroom
The Ironwood Boardroom is designed to intimidate. It sits on the seventy-fifth floor, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass that offers a sweeping, god-like view of the city. The table is a single slab of polished black walnut.
I sat at the head of the table, my high-backed leather executive chair swiveled around to face the windows, my back to the heavy double oak doors. The boardroom was empty save for me and Samuel, who stood near the entrance.
At precisely 4:00 PM, the doors burst open.
Jonathan shoved past the security guards, his face pale, his expensive suit wrinkled and stained with sweat. He looked like a cornered animal.
“I need to speak to the Chairman!” Jonathan shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “You can’t do this! You can’t pull the funding! We have a legally binding agreement!”
“You violated the Morals Clause, Mr. Miller,” Samuel said calmly, standing tall. “You lied on a sworn affidavit.”
“It’s a misunderstanding!” Jonathan pleaded, stepping further into the cavernous room, completely ignoring the figure sitting quietly with her back to him. “I was set up! It’s my ex-wife! She’s a crazy, vindictive gold-digger! She fabricated the whole thing because she’s bitter I left her! She’s nobody—a pathetic little temp worker trying to extort me!”
He dropped to his knees, clutching the edge of the polished walnut table. He was actually crying. Real tears of self-pity.
“Please,” Jonathan begged the back of my chair. “Sir, you have to listen to me. She’s unhinged. She’s been trying to ruin my reputation because she knows she’ll never have a man like me again. I’m the victim here!”
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
I let him sit in that silence. I let the echo of his pathetic lies bounce off the glass walls. Then, slowly, I reached out and pushed my foot against the floor.
