Meredith’s lips parted.
“Christian—”
“It holds ninety-four percent of our decisive voting shares through Foran-controlled entities.”
Meredith shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
One of the senior directors finally spoke. “It is not.”
Meredith turned toward him.
The director’s face was gray.
He opened the folder in his hands and looked down at documents he clearly no longer needed to read.
“Miss Foran is the ultimate controlling authority of the holding structure.”
Something in Meredith’s face collapsed.
She looked back at Scarlett.
The cream.
The stained emerald fabric.
The woman she had dismissed as an intruder.
The woman whose face she had shoved into a dessert for the amusement of people she wanted to impress.
Scarlett folded the napkin once and placed it carefully on the table.
Meredith whispered, “Why would someone like her come here alone?”
Christian stared at her in disbelief. “Because she doesn’t need an escort to prove who she is.”
Meredith’s breath shortened.
She stepped toward Scarlett.
“I didn’t know.”
Scarlett stood.
The movement was unhurried.
That made it worse.
Around them, guests rose instinctively from their chairs. Some understood the corporate implications. Others simply understood power when they saw every important person in the room suddenly become afraid of losing it.
Scarlett looked down at the cream staining her sleeve.
Then she looked at Meredith.
“You talked a great deal about status tonight.”
Meredith clasped her hands together. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“No. A misunderstanding is using the wrong title. What happened here was a choice.”
Scarlett’s voice never rose.
