CHAPTER SIX: THE BOARD'S FIRST MOVE
680 Words
Evelyn's POV
Monday morning began with bad news.
Sarah Crawford was waiting outside my office before I even stepped through the doors of Ashford Pharmaceuticals.
She looked composed, but the tightness around her eyes told me something was wrong.
"Good morning, Miss Morrison."
"What happened?"
She handed me a folder.
"The board has called an emergency meeting."
"I thought the meeting was in ten days."
"It was."
"What changed?"
Sarah hesitated.
"The announcement of your engagement."
I sighed.
"They think I'm distracted."
"Worse." She lowered her voice. "Several board members believe you're moving too quickly. They're questioning whether you're capable of leading the company."
I flipped through the documents.
Four board members had signed a request for an immediate vote on my leadership.
"They're trying to remove me before I've officially started."
"I'm afraid so."
The boardroom overlooked the company's research campus.
Twelve people sat around the polished oak table.
Some smiled politely.
Others didn't bother pretending.
Anthony remained beside the wall, saying nothing. He wasn't part of Ashford Pharmaceuticals, and today this battle was mine.
Samuel Grant nodded encouragingly as I entered.
Christopher Wells offered a small smile.
Not everyone here wanted me to fail.
A gray-haired man cleared his throat.
"Miss Morrison."
"I believe that's my seat."
His expression tightened as I took the chair at the head of the table.
"I'm Harold Benson," he said. "I've served on this board for twenty-three years."
"I appreciate your service."
"I hope you'll appreciate our honesty."
"I always do."
He folded his hands.
"You're twenty-eight years old."
"Correct."
"You have no experience running a pharmaceutical company."
"Also correct."
"You inherited this position only days ago."
"Yes."
"So why should we trust you with an eight-billion-pound company?"
The room fell silent.
Every eye settled on me.
I remembered my grandfather's journal.
Leadership isn't about pretending to know everything. It's about finding the people who do—and protecting the purpose that brought them together.
I met Harold's gaze.
"You shouldn't trust me because of my age."
A few eyebrows lifted.
"You shouldn't trust me because I'm William Ashford's granddaughter."
Silence.
"You should trust me because I know what I don't know."
I stood.
"I am not a scientist."
Christopher nodded.
"I'm not a pharmaceutical executive."
Samuel watched quietly.
"But I know how to build organizations that last."
I placed my grandfather's journal on the table.
"My grandfather didn't leave me this company because I was the smartest person in this room."
I looked around at each director.
"He left it to me because he believed I would protect what he built."
Harold leaned back.
"And how exactly do you intend to do that?"
"By listening to the experts."
I gestured toward Christopher.
"He leads research."
Toward Samuel.
"He protects our finances."
Then to the rest of the room.
"And each of you brings decades of experience."
I paused.
"My job isn't to replace your knowledge."
"It's to make sure no one sells it."
The room became very quiet.
Harold stared at me for several seconds before speaking again.
"And if a company offers fifteen billion pounds?"
"I'll refuse."
"Twenty?"
"I'll refuse."
"What if shareholders demand it?"
"I own the controlling shares."
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"So you've already decided."
"Yes."
"I will not sell Ashford Pharmaceuticals."
Another director spoke up.
"Even if it costs you billions personally?"
"Especially then."
Christopher smiled openly.
Samuel looked relieved.
Sarah quietly closed her notebook.
Harold finally nodded.
"I still think you're inexperienced."
"I probably am."
"But perhaps," he admitted, "experience isn't the only thing your grandfather wanted."
The tension eased.
The vote to challenge my leadership was quietly withdrawn.
As the meeting ended, Anthony joined me outside the boardroom.
"You won."
"I survived."
He smiled.
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
Before I could answer, Emmanuel called Anthony's phone.
Anthony listened for a few seconds, then his expression hardened.
"What is it?" I asked.
He ended the call.
"Richard Clarke just filed an injunction."
My stomach dropped.
"Against me?"
Anthony looked directly into my eyes.
"No."
"He filed it against our marriage."
- Writer
