DOMINIC
The board wanted blood. They wanted Maya gone. They wanted me to choose.
The boardroom was glass and steel, designed to impress and intimidate. Twelve faces stared at me from around the table, each representing billions in investment capital. Some had been with us since the beginning. Others bought in when we went public, sharks smelling profit.
Now they smelled blood instead.
"Stock is down eight percent," Harrison Cole said. He was old money, East Coast pedigree, superiority worn like a second skin.
"Since news broke about the inheritance, investors are spooked. They want stability. They want answers."
"They'll get both," I said.
"Will they?" Harrison leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Because from where we're sitting, you've handed controlling interest to a complete unkno
