By the time the Ministry's convoy finally pulled away from Sterling Group, the rain had stopped, but the air still smelled of ozone and scorched paper. The legal suite was a wreck — coffee cups, empty folders, cold takeout boxes stacked in corners.
Mr Halden stayed back and handed me a clipboard. "Receipt of transfer," he said flatly. "For the documents taken today. You'll get digital copies once the Ministry completes its review."
I signed without a word. My hand trembled only slightly.
When the door shut behind them, the silence that followed was deafening. Pauline stood nearby, shoulders slumped, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Across the room, members of PR and Legal looked half-dead — eyes bloodshot, still in yesterday's clothes.
They'd pulled an all-nighter. We all had.
I drew a deep breath and straightened. "That's enough for today," I said, my voice rough but steady. "You've done everything you could — more than anyone could've asked for. Go home. Get some rest."
No one moved at first, as if they hadn't quite heard me. Then, one by one, chairs scraped back. A few murmured thanks. Pauline lingered by the door, uncertain.
"I'll stay," she said quietly.
I shook my head. "No. That's an order."
She hesitated, then nodded — and left with the others.
For a moment, I stood alone in the conference room, the city sprawling dark and endless beyond the glass. The hum of the servers filled the silence. My reflection in the window looked like someone I didn't recognize — drawn, cold, eyes too sharp to belong to a human being.
Then the elevator chimed.
When the doors opened, I knew before I saw them that it wasn't over. The sound of expensive shoes. The faint scent of perfume. Voices, low and clipped.
The board.
Diana was at the front, her expression composed — too composed. Behind her trailed the others, faces tight with restrained fury.
"Miss Sterling," one of the directors began without preamble, "we just saw the Ministry of Infrastructure leaving with boxes and boxes of documents. All the reporters stationed out there saw it too! Care to explain why our company's name is now going to be dragged across every major network?"
I straightened, forcing calm. "The Ministry's inspection was routine procedure given the scale of the incident. We're cooperating fully—"
"Routine?" another voice cut in. "Half the Island Residence site is rubble, and you call that routine?"
I met his eyes. "I call it containment. If we hadn't acted within the first hour, the media would've torn the company apart. PR bought us time. Legal made sure the Ministry didn't seize more than necessary. You have no idea how close we came to losing control of this narrative."
A murmur rippled across the room — half disapproval, half uneasy silence.
Then Diana stepped forward, her tone deceptively mild. "And yet, despite all that… the company still stands accused of negligence, the press is circling like vultures, and our investors are calling me, not you."
The words hit harder than they should have. I exhaled slowly. "That's because you made yourself available to them, Diana. You wanted to be the voice they turned to."
Something flickered in her eyes. "Careful, Elara."
But I was too tired to be careful. "Don't act like you didn't see this coming. The project was bleeding for months before I stepped in. If you or the board had paid half as much attention to oversight as you did to your quarterly bonuses—"
The reaction was instant — a chorus of outrage. One of the older directors slammed his hand on the table. "Enough! You're out of line!"
The room tilted slightly. I blinked hard, willing my vision to steady. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the air too thin. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Diana saw it — the faint stumble, the hand gripping the chair's edge. Her lips curved almost imperceptibly.
"There," she said softly, cutting through the chaos. "Look at her. She can't even stand."
I forced my spine straight, ignoring the dizzy haze creeping in at the edges of my vision. "I'm fine."
But they had smelled blood.
"Fine?" one of them echoed. "You've been running this company into the ground since you took over. You're exhausted, irrational—"
"I've been holding this company together," I snapped. "While you've been busy protecting your own reputations."
"Enough," Diana said again, her tone knife-sharp now. "We need stability, Elara. The board agrees. You're compromised — physically and professionally. We can't risk another public blunder."
I stared at her, every word landing like ice in my chest. "You're forcing a vote."
A pause. "We're protecting the company," she said quietly.
A low, familiar voice cut through the noise.
"From what?"
Every head turned.
The doors hadn't even closed yet when my father walked in — calm, measured, the kind of presence that didn't need to raise his voice to command the room. The directors fell silent almost instinctively, their outrage dissolving into unease.
Diana blinked once, and then—smiled. That smooth, practiced smile she used when caught off-guard. "Charles, darling" she said lightly, voice warm with feigned surprise. "I didn't realize you were back."
He didn't look at her. His gaze swept the room instead, taking in the scene — the raised voices, the scattered documents, me standing rigid behind the table, pale under the fluorescent lights.
"I heard shouting halfway down the corridor," he said. "Imagine my surprise when I find my board ready to devour my daughter before breakfast."
No one dared speak.
Charles walked to the head of the table with the deliberate calm of a man who'd built this company from the ground up. "Let's make one thing very clear," he continued, his tone even but cold. "Sterling Group does not conduct witch hunts. Not against its own executives. And certainly not against the person who just kept this company from a total collapse in the last twenty-four hours."
A few of the directors shifted uncomfortably.
Charles rested his hands on the back of the nearest chair, leaning forward just slightly. "You're angry. You're afraid. I understand that. But while you were busy counting headlines, Elara was in this building — containing the situation, handling the Ministry, and protecting our intellectual property from being seized. So unless one of you plans to do her job better, I suggest you start showing her the respect her results deserve."
Someone cleared their throat, as if to protest. Charles's eyes flicked toward them — just once. That was enough.
Diana's smile didn't falter. "Of course," she said smoothly, stepping closer, aligning herself neatly by his side. "We were simply concerned, that's all. Everyone here wants what's best for Sterling Group."
Charles gave a short, humorless laugh. "Concern is one thing. Ambition dressed as concern is another."
A flush crept up one director's neck. The others avoided his gaze.
Then Charles straightened, his voice hardening. "This discussion is over. I expect everyone in this room to be at the next briefing with a written proposal — not gossip, not speculation — a plan. Dismissed."
The command was quiet, but absolute.
Chairs scraped back again, this time with none of the earlier defiance. The board members filed out in uneasy silence, muttering under their breath. Diana lingered a second longer, her expression unreadable.
She turned to Charles, her tone soft, deferential. "I'll coordinate with Communications, darling. We'll make sure the release holds."
Charles didn't answer. He just looked at her — long enough that the politeness in her smile cracked, just slightly. Then she left too, heels clicking down the hall.
The moment the door shut, the strength drained out of me.
The room swam.
I tried to speak, but the edges of my vision blurred. The last thing I saw was Charles moving toward me, fast, the sharp scrape of his chair as it toppled.
"Elara—"
And then the world tilted sideways.
The cold marble rushed up to meet me.
Darkness swallowed everything.