Chapter 7: The Boardroom
1337 Words
Monday came like a storm.
Amelia woke up to 37 missed calls. All from unknown numbers. Reporters.
The TV in the living room was on mute. The headline scrolled: "BLACKWOOD STOCK PLUNGES 8% AFTER ASHFORD INVESTMENT CONCERNS"
Her stomach dropped.
There was a knock. Damian. He was already in a suit. No tie. Jaw tight.
“They pulled it,” he said. No hello. “Richard Ashford pulled all Ashford Group shares at 6AM. Board meeting in 30 minutes.”
Amelia stood up in her pajamas. “What does that mean?”
“It means the board is blaming you,” Damian said. “And me. For marrying you instead of Victoria.”
Amelia felt sick. “What do I do?”
“Come with me,” Damian said. “You’re my wife. If they’re going to attack, they attack us both.”
30 minutes later they were in the same boardroom from last week. Only this time, it was full. 15 board members. Eleanor at the head. And Richard Ashford sitting in a guest chair like he owned the place.
Victoria was beside him.
“Damian,” Eleanor said. “Sit.”
They did. Amelia kept her back straight. Hands in her lap so no one could see them shake.
Richard spoke first. “I’ll be direct. We’re pulling 200 million in investment. Effective immediately.”
Murmurs.
“Why?” one board member asked.
“Because I don’t invest in companies run by men who make reckless personal decisions,” Richard said. He looked at Amelia. “No offense, dear. But this marriage is a liability.”
Victoria smiled. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
“Is this about business or about your daughter’s broken engagement?” Damian asked. His voice was calm. Too calm.
“It’s about protecting my shareholders,” Richard said. “Which you clearly don’t care about.”
Eleanor slammed her hand on the table. “Enough. Richard, you’ve been threatening this since Saturday. If you want to pull out, pull out. But don’t stand here and insult my son’s wife.”
Amelia blinked. That was... support?
Richard stood. “Fine. You’ll regret this, Eleanor. When the stock hits rock bottom.” He looked at Victoria. “Let’s go.”
They left. The door shut.
The room was silent.
“The board will vote,” Eleanor said. “On whether Damian remains CEO.”
Amelia’s heart stopped.
“What?” Damian said.
“Don’t act surprised,” another board member said. “This is a mess. PR nightmare. Stock down. Investors scared. We need stability.”
“And I’m not stable?” Damian asked.
“You married a waitress in 24 hours,” the man said. “That’s not stable.”
Amelia stood up. Everyone looked at her.
“Can I say something?” she asked. Her voice was small but steady.
Eleanor nodded.
Amelia looked around the room. “I know I’m not what you expected. I know you think I’m the reason for this. And maybe I am.” She took a breath. “But I’m also the reason 2 million dollars was donated on Saturday. I’m the reason people are talking about the Children’s Heart Foundation again. And I’m the reason your CEO hasn’t quit to go hide in his office.”
She looked at Damian. “You think I’m a liability. But I’m fighting. Every day. For this family. For this company. Even though I don’t have to.”
She sat down. Her hands were trembling.
No one spoke for 10 seconds.
Then Eleanor cleared her throat. “Vote.”
7-6.
Damian stays CEO.
Amelia exhaled. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath.
“Meeting adjourned,” Eleanor said. “Damian. My office. Now.”
Damian’s office was on the top floor. Glass walls. View of the whole city.
He closed the door.
“You didn’t have to do that in there,” he said.
“I know,” Amelia said. “But I did.”
Damian ran a hand through his hair. “We lost 200 million. Stock is down. My mother just saved my job by 1 vote.”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispered. “This is all my fault.”
“No,” Damian said sharply. “It’s mine. I signed the contract. I dragged you into this.”
He turned to the window. “Victoria won this round.”
Amelia walked over and stood beside him. Not touching. Just there. “Then we win the next one.”
Damian looked at her. “Why are you still here? You could leave. Take the money. I wouldn’t blame you.”
Amelia thought about her dad. About the hospital bills. About the 5 million.
“Because I gave my word,” she said. “One year. And because...” She stopped.
“Because what?” Damian asked.
“Because no one’s ever had my back like you did on Saturday,” Amelia said quietly. “Not even me.”
Damian didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away.
His assistant knocked. “Sir. Press conference in 1 hour. To address the stock.”
“Cancel it,” Damian said. “We’re not doing damage control. We’re doing something bigger.”
“What?” Amelia asked.
Damian turned to her. “We announce a new partnership. With the Children’s Heart Foundation. 50 million from Blackwood. In your name.”
“My name?”
“The Amelia Carter Foundation,” Damian said. “We turn this around. We make you the face of it. Not the scandal.”
Amelia stared. “That’s... that’s huge.”
“It’s necessary,” Damian said. “And it’s right.”
That afternoon, the announcement went live.
BLACKWOOD GLOBAL PLEDGES 50 MILLION TO NEW AMELIA CARTER FOUNDATION FOR CHILDREN’S HEALTH
Photos of Amelia from the gala. Her speech.
The internet exploded. Again.
But this time, different.
“She seems genuine”
“Billionaire uses money for good??”
“Protect Mrs. Blackwood at all costs”
Even some news outlets called it “a smart PR move.”
At home that night, Amelia got a text. From her dad.
[Baby girl. Hospital said the foundation paid for my full treatment. They said it’s under your name? What’s going on? I’m so proud.]
Amelia cried. For real this time. Happy tears.
There was a knock. Damian.
He had takeout. Two containers. Thai food.
“ Truce dinner?” he asked. “In the living room. No suits. No board.”
Amelia smiled. “Truce dinner sounds good.”
They sat on the floor. Like normal people. Eating with plastic forks.
“Did you mean what you said in there?” Damian asked. “About staying.”
“I did,” Amelia said. “One year.”
Damian nodded. “Good. Because I think we’re just getting started.”
His phone buzzed. He looked at it and frowned.
“What?” Amelia asked.
“Victoria,” Damian said. “She texted me. ‘You think 50 million fixes this? My father isn’t done.’”
Amelia set her fork down. “She’s not going to stop, is she?”
“No,” Damian said. “But neither are we.”
He looked at her. Really looked. “Amelia. Thank you. For today. For standing up there.”
Amelia shrugged. “Someone had to.”
Damian almost smiled. “You’re not what I expected either.”
They finished eating in comfortable silence.
Later, in her room, Amelia looked at the news again.
Her name. Her face. Not as “contract wife.” As “philanthropist.”
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
[Cute foundation. Shame if something happened to it. See you soon. - V]
Amelia deleted it.
She put the phone down and looked at the ceiling.
Monday was over.
They survived the board.
But Victoria’s last text meant one thing:
This was far from over.
“End of chapter 7 — Victoria’s next move. What is she planning to do to the foundation?”
- Writer
