The silence after Isabella’s final words was a living thing, thick and disbelieving. Xavier stood frozen at the head of the table, the two files she had dropped lying between him and the board like a gauntlet. A fierce, terrifying pride surged in his chest, so potent it threatened to crack the stern mask of the condemned CEO. She did this. She walked in here. But beneath the pride, a cold dread coiled. She had just placed herself squarely in the crossfire, trading his target for her own.
The lead independent director, Arthur Walsh, a man with a face like etched granite, was the first to move. He reached forward, his movements slow and deliberate, and pulled the thicker forensic file toward him. The sound of the cover opening was obscenely loud.
For a full minute, the only sounds were the
