“Three days," Lydia said, glancing at the wall clock. “Time's up."
The boardroom smelled like coffee and paper. Lawson folded his hands. Greer cleared his throat. Hsu capped a pen with a click that sounded like a verdict.
Ethan stood at the glass, back to them, Manhattan running under his reflection. His cheekbone wore a fading yellow from a week that wouldn't end.
Lawson spoke first, voice scrubbed of gala charm. “We've reviewed Zenia's final draft."
“And?" Ethan asked without turning.
“We accept," Lawson said.
Silence took a chair.
Lydia slid the resolution down the table, the paper neat, the language not. “Board reduced to seven. Audit reset. Tender, then squeeze-out. Debt refi. Day-one separation. You transition to advisory for ninety days, then exit."
Ethan turned. “You're fir
