Chapter 4
652 Words
I raised a hand and signaled the control booth to bring up my presentation. I had finished it 3 months earlier and rehearsed it in front of a mirror at least 20 times.
The audience applauded three times before I finished.
The summit ended 2 hours behind schedule, but the result was far better than anyone had expected.
That evening, every financial news alert carried the same message.
"The Sterling Heiress Saves the Investor Summit—and Upends the Succession Race"
Curled up on the hotel sofa, I reread the headline until I was so delighted that I rolled across the cushions.
Dominic and Isabella didn't return from the coast until the following afternoon.
Dominic had stubble across his face and wore a badly wrinkled shirt. Isabella clung to his arm, her eyes swollen from crying.
The moment he learned that I had delivered the keynote and made the financial headlines, he stormed into my room.
"Camille, who gave you permission to use my presentation?"
He planted both hands on my desk. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice cracked with anger.
I leaned back in my chair with my hands folded over my knees and didn't move.
"Dominic, I used my own presentation. You were 125 miles away, you weren't answering your phone, and 2,000 people waited until 9:30. Tell me what you would've done in my place."
Dominic straightened and gave a dismissive laugh.
"You were remarkably well-prepared. You had been waiting for this day for a long time, huh?"
I neither admitted nor denied it. I simply lifted my cup and took a sip.
"Bella broke down because of the online harassment. Do you have any idea what people were saying about her? Was I supposed to leave her there to face it alone?"
His voice rose with every word.
"So what if I missed one summit? It was just a formality. Compared with a human life, it means nothing."
I set the cup back on the desk. The porcelain made a soft click.
"Nothing?"
I stood, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of him.
"I flew to four countries to recover the 94 million dollars missing from the Varelia project. Yesterday, I kept the entire summit from collapsing while every shareholder waited to see me fail. While you comforted your girlfriend at the beach, I cleaned up your mess."
I met his eyes and spoke each word slowly.
"You keep saying I don't understand. Then tell me, Dominic. What exactly do you understand?"
Dominic froze. His lips parted, and he swallowed hard, but no words came out.
For the first time in my life, I had left him completely speechless.
I watched him for a few seconds, then returned to my chair, picked up the next document awaiting my signature, and didn't look up.
"Go take care of Ms. Crane. You don't need to concern yourself with the company anymore."
Dominic's face darkened. He turned and slammed the door behind him.
The door was still shuddering in its frame when I opened my drawer and glanced at the gray metal lockbox. My smile slowly returned.
After New Year's Day, Sterling Group held its annual executive retreat at Lake Briarwood. It was an old tradition, a private gathering where my father and the core leadership got on the same page for the year ahead.
Dominic insisted on bringing Isabella.
Her presence alone would've been bad enough, but she decided to make herself impossible to ignore.
She pulled a thick stack of printed pages from a canvas bag and handed them out to the executives one by one.
The handwritten title read Capital Should Have a Conscience. The 3,000-word essay argued that companies making that much money should give it all back to society, no questions asked.
I looked at the blurry printout, riddled with spelling errors, and placed it face down on the table without a word.
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