BETWEEN TWO BROTHERS AND A PAST

Chapter 10: Cracks in the Foundation (Andrew POV)

The boardroom was dead quiet except for the projector's low buzz. Red digits burned on the screen, losses stacking high, my losses. Richard shifted, his chair groaning under him. "Your plan's tanking, Kane," he said, words cutting sharp. "Word's out there might be a vote if this keeps sliding."

My jaw locked tight. A vote? They'd pull that now, after all I'd poured in? I kept my stare on the numbers. "It'll shift," I said, shoving calm into my voice. "Just needs a beat."

"Time's not on the table," he fired back. "Stock's dipping. Clients are antsy. You're on the clock."

I didn't twitch. "I've got it."

His lip curled. "Better hope so."

The others stayed mute, but their eyes drilled into me, buzzards waiting for the kill. I snatched my notes and I strode out, the door banging shut behind me. My office was close, but each step dragged like lead. A vote. They wouldn't rip this out from under me. Not after I'd built it, every handshake, every gamble, every damn victory. This was my company. Mine.

I slumped into my chair, tossing the papers onto the desk. Luke was already there, thumbing a report like it was some glossy rag. "We need something solid," he said, eyes still down.

"There's a plan," I said, tone flat as asphalt.

He flicked a glance up. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"s***h expenses. Tighten up. Stay alive."

He scowled, dropping the report. "We can't just axe people, Andrew. They've got lives."

"Wake up, Luke," I barked, slamming my own stack down. The thud bounced off the glass. "This isn't playtime. We trim or we're done. Choose."

He folded his arms. "Doesn't mean you've got to be a prick about it."

"Someone's got to call it," I said, leaning in. "Never been your thing, has it?"

He started to snap back, then he stopped. "You're a real piece of work," he muttered.

"Great," I shot back. "Deal with it."

A tap at the door cut through the air. Julia stood there, clutching a file, her "Here you go" barely above a whisper. She edged in just enough to drop it, then she bolted like I was radioactive. I gave a curt nod, eyes skimming the folder. But something, those hazel eyes, shaky and wide, snagged me. A flicker of something old, half-heard, brushed past. Where from? I shoved it aside. No space for that now.

She was out before I could blink. I grumbled, flipping the file open. More figures, more grim news. Fantastic.

Luke coughed. "Didn't need to scare her off."

"I didn't," I said, nose in the pages.

He huffed. "Right."

"Focus," I snapped. "We've got worse than your whining to fix."

He got up, pacing to the window. "You're shoving everyone out, me, her, the board. All of them."

"They'll survive," I said. "I'm keeping this place breathing."

He spun, arms crossed tight. "What if you go under trying?"

"Then you can sob about it," I said, ice in my voice. "Till then, do your damn job."

He shook his head and he bailed, leaving me solo. I crossed to the window, city lights sprawling below. Richard's jab kept spinning in my skull. A vote. They wouldn't take this. I'd forged Kane Enterprises to where it is now, sleepless nights, deals I'd fought tooth and nail for, wins I'd ripped out of nothing. My fists balled up.

I could turn it around. I had to. This was mine, not some boardroom leech's. But my chest felt tight, something else creeping in. Dad's face popped up, wan, frail, tubes snaking around him after that close call. I'd missed it, too caught up in, what? Some party? Some woman?

Her face, Julia's, flickered through. Why her? Why now? I barely knew her, a few run-ins, tops. But those eyes stuck, tugging at something buried. Knock it off, I told myself. I pushed it all down, Dad, her, the noise. Work. That's what counted.

I grabbed the latest financials, numbers swimming as I forced focus. Layoffs? Offload something? I had to break somewhere. I'd sort it, I always did. No one was shoving me out, not Richard, not a soul.

The phone buzzed. I let it rattle, ignoring it. Probably Luke, griping again. Or Sophie, yammering about some fancy event. I couldn't deal with either. My hand hovered, then it pulled back. Work first.

It buzzed again. I snatched it, pissed. "What?"

"Richard," came the clipped reply. "We've got to talk."

"About?" I kept my voice steady.

"The vote," he said. "You're in deep, Andrew. Clean it up, or we will."

"I've got it," I said, firm.

"You'd better," he replied. "We're not sitting on this long."

I hung up, glaring at the receiver. Clean it up. Fine. I'd drown them in proof, they'd have no moves left.

The weight stayed, though. I scrubbed my face, leaning back. Dad's health, still iffy. The company, wobbling. And Julia. Why was she rattling around in there? No room for it, for her. A handful of glimpses, some single mom with a kid and a stack of papers. Nothing worth this.

But those eyes. That quiet "Here you go." It didn't fit here, felt like it came from somewhere else, somewhere I'd been. I shook it off. Stress was screwing with me.

The phone lit up again. I grabbed it, ready to bite. Richard's name flashed, a text: "Tomorrow, 8 a.m. Your future's on the table. Show up."

My grip clamped down, the case creaking. Tomorrow? They were sprinting at this. A vote already? My pulse kicked hard. Fine. I'd storm in and I'd ram their doubts back in their faces.