The board meeting was a funeral and a coronation wrapped in Brazilian walnut and cold fury. Elara sat at the massive table, not in a guest chair along the wall, but in a seat of her own, between a grim-faced CFO and a visibly shaken head of legal. The nameplate in front of her was simple, brutal, and unprecedented: E. VANCE.
Miranda sat at the head, an interim queen regent. Kaelan sat to her right, his face a carefully neutral mask, the bruises on his face now yellowing badges of honor and victimhood. Liam was absent, by his own choice and doctor’s orders.
The air was thick with the scent of fear and recrimination. Charles’s portrait still hung on the wall, a ghost watching his empire dismantle.
“The immediate priority,” Miranda began, her voice cutting through the murmur, “is containme
