Lucas POV
Spencer's eyes darted toward Grandpa
Elliott, looking for a lifeline that wasn't coming. The Old Master remained as still as a statue, his weathered fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the head of his cane.
"The Nile Town rigs were a fluke of timing, Lucas," Spencer finally spat, leaning forward. "Market volatility favored your aggressive strategy. But the investors aren't looking for luck. They're looking for a leader who won't collapse during a press conference. I've seen the medical bills from that doctor in Mexico. I know about the disorder."
The mention of Dr. Matthew made the air in the room turn brittle. Beside me, Brandon's breath hitched, other shareholders present began to mumur. It was the one card Spencer had been holding close to his chest, and he had finally thrown it onto the table.
I let a small, hollow smile touch my lips. It wasn't a smile of warmth.
"My medical records are private, Spencer. But since you're so concerned with 'stability,' let's talk about yours."
I signaled to Brandon, who slid a tablet across the polished mahogany table toward my uncle. "Those are the transaction logs from your offshore account in Golf Town. It seems you've been investing heavily in a rival shipping firm, the one that happened to bid against ZigLan Autos last month."
Spencer's face went from purple to a ghostly, sickly white. The tablet hissed as it slid to a stop in front of him.
"That's... that's a fabrication," he stammered, his hand trembling as he reached for the device.
"Is it?" I stood up from my seat.The heat I had felt outside was gone, replaced by a crystalline focus. I leaned over the table with my shadow stretching across Spencer's panicked features. "You call me a liability, yet you're the one bleeding our secrets to the highest bidder. If I find so much as a cent of Elliott money in an unverified account again, I won't just take your seat on this board. I'll take everything you own, including that estate in Oakhills."
Uncle Spencer trembled at the words from my mouth, but he still managed to remain composed, with Emily slightly patting his laps.
I turned to my grandfather. The old man's eyes met mine. In a fleeting second, he flashed a proud smile on his face before turning to the other executives.
"The meeting is adjourned," his voice cracking like a whip. "Lucas, my office. The rest of you... get out."
Aunt Emily didn't even look at me as she hurried uncle Spencer out of the room. They knew they had lost this round, but I knew Emily; she wasn't done. She would go home to Blaise her son and start weaving a new web.
I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the flooded and busy streets of Flensburg city. My Cold was humming in my ears now.
But as I looked down at the street fifty stories below, I searched for that spark of red. The woman in the crimson coat was gone, swallowed by the gray fog of Northern Germany.
Who are you? I wondered, the thought unbidden and dangerous.
I shook it off. Love was a ghost that had died in a car wreck years ago. I had an empire to run and a body to keep from breaking. I couldn't afford to wonder about a stranger.
I turned away from the window and headed toward the Old Master's office, the weight of the Elliott crown feeling heavier than it ever had before.