CHAPTER 288: CHAPTER 288 ASHTON: THE BOARDROOM

The boardroom was silent except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on me, each one calculating, suspicious, or quietly resentful.

The long mahogany table gleamed under the overhead lights. I sat at the head, as I always did, my right hand resting casually on the arm of the chair, though the bandages beneath my sleeve still itched and ached with every pulse.

One of the older men cleared his throat. His name was Laurent too, though barely anyone outside the family remembered his exact connection. Second cousin once removed, perhaps. He was nearing seventy, with a heavy jaw and an air of self-importance.

‘Ashton,’ he began, his tone deliberately paternal. ‘No one here doubts your capabilities, but you’ve been through an ordeal. Stranded on an island, injured, feverish. Surely you must admit you need rest. Perhaps it would be wise to step back for a time. Let others shoulder the burden until you recover.’

Several others nodded. Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.

They thought they were subtle, but I had seen the look in their eyes the moment I entered the room. They had scented blood.

I steepled my fingers and regarded them without expression. ‘You believe Laurent Global Holdings requires someone else at the helm?’

‘Only temporarily,’ another chimed in, a distant uncle whose claim to the Laurent name was as thin as his hair. ‘Your health is paramount. And with these rumours about a Titanova takeover, the market is jittery. A steady hand, someone with more... experience, might reassure investors.’

Experience. In their language, that meant age. And in their minds, my age was still an affront, a reminder that my grandfather had chosen me over all of them.

I let them talk. I had no intention of stopping them.

Lea’s name surfaced more than once. They circled it like vultures, speculating on whether she had already made her move, wondering aloud how much their shares might fetch if the rumours proved true.

I had deliberately let the whispers spread. Rumour was a useful weapon. It revealed loyalties faster than any audit.

Half the men around this table owed their positions not to competence but to bloodlines, favours, or sheer inertia. They had been gifted titles by Edouard Laurent, or by Reginald, who had treated the company like a private estate to be carved up amongst friends. They were the weak links I intended to expose.

‘If Titanova is truly interested,’ someone ventured, ‘perhaps it would be prudent to at least hear them out. A merger, a partnership—’

‘Titanova does not dictate terms to LGH,’ I said.

The words dropped into the silence like stone. For a moment, no one dared speak.

‘Still,’ a cousin pressed, ‘Lea Lopez is a formidable businesswoman. And you were partners once, were you not? The market knows this. Investors see sense in such an alignment.’

I thought of Lea, of the confrontation on the cruise ship.

I had believed that would be the last time I saw her. I was wrong, in more ways than one.

In a way, we were the same. When we wanted something, we would stop at nothing to get it.

Maybe we had been partners once. But now she was intent on recasting us as predator and prey.

She had already leveraged Titanova’s connections to disrupt my supply chains, to lure away potential clients.

Those were irritations, nothing more, the sort of problems that came with running a corporation as vast as LGH.

Now she had gone for the jugular.

‘If we don’t sell, what if she makes good on her threat?’ someone asked at last, voicing what they were all thinking.

The rumour had already spread. A sudden ordinance from City Hall, an emergency moratorium on all new land development and construction permits. If passed, LGH would be the prime target.

‘Our projects would freeze overnight,’ another said, anxious.

‘Future plans locked down. No chance to prepare, no way to challenge it before it passed,’ someone else added.

And they were right.

Unless Lea intervened.

It was no secret she had influence over the Deputy Commissioner of Urban Development, the only man with the power to push such an ordinance through.

What leverage she held over him—money, blackmail, something darker—was still unclear. My people were working on it.

If the moratorium went through, it would be almost impossible to strike down in court. LGH would bleed millions lobbying against the law, all while operations ground to a halt.

Unless I gave Lea what she wanted.

I leaned back in my chair, betraying nothing. The ache in my right hand pulsed steadily, but I welcomed it. The pain reminded me of the island, of Mira’s face lit by firelight, of the way she had trusted me with her life.

But she had not trusted me with her love, not yet.

That was my mistake. I had pressed too hard, too fast. I had been the one to suggest the contract marriage, the one to buy her building, the one to manipulate her into living in my house. Always the strategist, always the one in control.

But people, unlike companies, did not bend to pressure. She had felt cornered, and when the real wedding loomed, she had fled.

So I had let her go. Not because I wanted the breakup, but because she needed space to decide for herself.

And I was confident. Mira might waver, but she would return. The answer would be yes.

‘If there is nothing further,’ I said at last, my tone final, ‘this meeting is adjourned.’

Chairs scraped back reluctantly. The shareholders filed out, muttering in low voices. None of them looked me in the eye.

The door clicked shut behind the last of them.

A knock followed almost immediately.

‘Come in,’ I said.

Dominic Everett slipped through the door, his dark suit immaculate as always. He leaned close, lowering his voice. ‘She’s here.’

I frowned. ‘Who?’

‘Mrs Laurent. I mean, Miss Vance. She’s downstairs.’