The hotel room was neat, impersonal — beige walls, a stiff bedspread, the hum of the heater filling the silence. Mitchell dropped his bag onto the chair and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his jaw tight.
Tracy had never done this before. Never told him to leave. Never sent him to the couch, let alone out of the house. The sting of it burned deeper than the cold air he’d walked through to get here.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space. Why can’t they see it? he thought bitterly. Why can’t they understand what I want for them?
To him, it was simple. Lee had the mind, the drive, the potential to lead the company into the future. Max had been there for years, yes — loyal, hardworking, steady. But Mitchell couldn’t shake the belief that Max was meant to follow, not lead
