Chapter 8 - The Boardroom Doors
The elevator carriage chimed softly as it reached the forty-second floor of the Kane Industries tower. The doors slid open to reveal a cavernous, minimalist lobby of brushed steel, black granite, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the gray expanse of the city beneath a overcast sky. Down the polished hallway lay the executive boardroom—a massive glass-walled enclosure where the most powerful men and women in the financial district were currently gathering to carve up Everett's empire.
I adjusted the strap of my leather portfolio under my arm, squared my shoulders, and walked down the silent corridor. My heels clicked rhythmically against the stone floor, each step deliberate and measured. I wasn't the ragged, desperate girl who had knelt on the cold chapel tiles just hours ago. I was Everett Kane's legal wife, holding a signed proxy bearing his personal seal.
As I approached the frosted glass double doors of the boardroom, a tall security guard in a dark suit stepped smoothly into my path, raising a hand to block my entry.
"Pardon me, ma'am," the guard said, his voice flat and professional. "Private session. Unauthorized personnel are not permitted on this floor during the extraordinary general meeting."
I didn't stop walking. I pulled the leather folder from my arm, flipped it open to the embossed proxy authorization form signed by Everett, and held it inches from his chest.
"Willa Hayes-Kane," I said, my voice cutting through the lobby's quiet ambiance with absolute clarity. "Designated legal proxy and spouse of Everett Kane. Step aside, or you'll be named as a co-defendant in the corporate obstruction injunction I'm filing with the federal marshals this afternoon."
The guard glanced down at the bold signature, recognized the red wax seal, and saw the cold, unyielding look in my eyes. The professional confidence faltered; he hesitated for a fraction of a second, then lowered his hand and pulled the heavy glass door open.
"Right this way, ma'am," he murmured, stepping back.
I stepped past him into the boardroom. The hum of conversation among the dozen senior executives seated around the long polished mahogany table died instantly. At the far end of the room, sitting in the high-backed leather chair reserved for the Chief Executive Officer, sat Sterling Kane. He wore his dark suit, white dress shirt, and silver tie, his slicked-back dark hair catching the overhead spotlights. A smug, triumphant smile curled across his face—a smile that vanished the exact second his eyes met mine.
Sterling stood up slowly from the head of the table, his hands resting flat against the wood.
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"What is the meaning of this?" Sterling snapped, his voice ringing off the glass walls. "Security! Get this woman out of here immediately. She has no business in this room."
"I have every business here, Sterling," I said, my voice steady as I walked down the length of the room toward the empty seat beside the CEO's chair. I laid my leather folder on the mahogany table, pulled out the document, and slid it across the polished wood directly toward him. "Let's call the vote."
