Chapter11
802 Words
THE BOARD THAT BITES
Alfred stood in the boardroom, surrounded by polished wood, sharp suits, and colder eyes.
The long mahogany table stretched before him like a battlefield, and the people seated around it were not his allies — not today.
At the head of the table sat his mother, elegant, composed, and smiling a smile meant to cut.
“Shall we begin?” she said.
Alfred didn’t sit.
He never did when things felt dangerous.
The board secretary cleared his throat and clicked a small remote. The lights dimmed; a projection appeared on the screen.
A photograph.
Alfred’s chest tightened.
It was Catherine.
Catherine in his arms at the music festival.
Laughing.
Happy.
Pure.
A murmur went around the table.
His mother folded her hands.
“Alfred,” she said sweetly, “we need clarity. You’ve been… distracted.”
He clenched his jaw. “What does this have to do with my ability to lead?”
One of the board members spoke up — a man known for switching loyalties like ties.
“We have reason to believe this relationship is influencing your decision-making. Especially your recent choices to work unofficially in rural branches, ignore certain strategic meetings, and hide your schedule.”
“And,” another added, “your refusal to approve the Nairobi restructuring plan.”
Alfred narrowed his eyes.
“So this isn’t about my relationship. This is about control.”
His mother kept her voice calm. “Darling, we only want what’s best for you. And for the company. We can’t let personal distractions compromise its stability.”
“Personal distractions,” he repeated, bitterness rising. “That’s what you call her?”
The room went tense.
His mother turned to the others. “This is precisely why he is unfit to lead right now. He’s emotional. Irrational. Unable to separate private affairs from corporate responsibility.”
“That’s not true,” Alfred said sharply.
But she was prepared.
She changed the slide.
Catherine in the HR building’s hallway — a still image from security footage.
Then another slide.
Catherine entering the lift with two HR managers.
Alfred’s breath stilled.
“What is this?” he demanded.
One board member cleared his throat. “HR received an anonymous report this morning claiming she was compromising your decisions. They conducted an interview.”
His fists tightened. “You dragged her into this?”
“No,” his mother said innocently. “The board did. As they should.”
He stepped closer. “She has nothing to do with this company.”
“Oh, but she does now,” a board member cut in. “Because you made her a target the moment you hid the relationship.”
His mother leaned back, victorious.
“Alfred,” she said gently, “it’s time to step aside for a few weeks. Let the board appoint interim leadership while you… sort out your personal issues.”
He stared at her.
“You want me out.”
“Temporarily,” she replied with a perfect lie. “You’re overwhelmed. Emotional. Vulnerable.”
“No,” Alfred said quietly. “You want the company.”
Her smile didn’t change.
But her eyes flickered.
And he saw it.
The truth.
The plan.
The trap.
She’d used Catherine as bait — knowing Alfred would react.
Knowing HR could be manipulated.
Knowing the board could be stirred.
This wasn’t about Catherine at all.
This was a coup.
“You plotted this,” Alfred whispered.
His mother stood gracefully. “We will now take a vote.”
Alfred slammed his hand on the table.
“You think I’m going to sit here and let you destroy everything I built?”
A few board members looked away.
Some looked guilty.
Some amused.
His mother remained serene.
“Alfred. Sit down.”
He didn’t.
And when the vote began —
his fate hanging on raised hands —
his phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
He glanced down.
Unknown:
He’s betraying you. Check the financial audit from last quarter. You're not the one compromising the company — someone else is.
Another text came immediately after:
And it’s someone inside that room.
Alfred’s heart pounded.
One more message.
Proof is coming to you now. Use it before they vote.
His phone dinged again — a file attachment.
He opened it.
And everything changed.
Alfred slowly lifted his gaze, eyes burning with new fire.
He looked around the boardroom — really looked — and suddenly, he knew exactly who had set him up.
And he was done playing nice.
“Actually,” Alfred said, voice calm and deadly, “before you vote… I have something to share.”
The room froze.
His mother frowned.
And Alfred — for the first time since the meeting began — smiled.
A dangerous, knowing smile.
- Writer
