CHAPTER 206: CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIX

The day had finally arrived. The day Augusta had been waiting for, the day she had spent weeks carefully planning. The day of the special advisory and investors meeting for the Ellington Textile Establishment. This was the meeting that would seal the fate of the company, and her own.

Augusta sat at her vanity looking at her reflection in the mirror. Two maids moved around her in her grand bedchamber. One put the finishing touches on her hairstyle, her fingers deftly tucking a stray strand of hair into place. The other knelt to smooth out the final wrinkle in the skirt of her magnificent dress.

When they were finished, they curtsied and backed out of the room, leaving Augusta alone with her own triumphant image. She looked at the woman in the mirror. Her face was a perfect, calm composure. Her eyes, cool and calculating, held a gleam of victory. She picked up a small, silver-backed brush and lightly dusted her cheeks with powder.

She adjusted the heavy, diamond necklace at her throat, its cold weight a comforting reminder of her status. She practiced her smile—a gentle, reassuring curve of the lips that hid the sharp edges of her soul. Her look was complete. She was ready.

After one last, satisfying glance in the mirror, she swept out of the room. But she did not go downstairs. Instead, she walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway to her husband’s room.

A maid had just finished cleaning Henry. The room was still, the only sound the faint, shallow whisper of his breathing.

She was replacing the water in the basin by his bed. "Good morning, Baroness," the young maid curtsied as she greeted Augusta who just entered.

Augusta’s gaze fell on a small table beside the bed, where a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine sat. "Have you given him his medicine yet?" she asked, her voice soft.

The maid shook her head. "No, Baroness. The doctor said to wait until after he was cleaned."

"You may leave," Augusta said, her tone dismissing the girl completely. The maid curtsied again, picked up the bowl of water and used towels, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Augusta was alone with her husband. She walked to his bedside and looked down at the still, pale face on the pillow. "Today is my big day, Henry," she said, her voice a low, confidential murmur. She reached out and patted his limp, unresponsive hair. "I am finally getting what I deserve. Everything i’ve planned for."

She turned, the silk of her dress rustling in the quiet room, and showcased her outfit as if he were an admiring audience. "How do I look, Henry?" she asked, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. She waited for a moment, listening to the silence, broken only by his slow breathing.

"Oh, I forgot," she said, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of mock surprise. "I forgot you are still half-dead." She smiled as she walked over to the table where his medicine was. She uncorked the bottle and took a pill to dissolve it into the glass of water. She picked up a silver spoon and began to stir, the gentle, clinking sound loud in the quiet room. As she stirred, she looked at him, her eyes cold and empty of any feeling.

She walked back to his side, the glass in her hand. With one arm, she gently raised his head up from the pillow. With the other, she brought the glass to his lips and carefully poured the contents into his mouth, helping him guide the cloudy liquid down his throat. A little of it dribbled from the corner of his mouth. She took a small, embroidered cloth she had brought with her and delicately cleaned his mouth before resting his head back onto the pillow. She looked at the cloth for a moment, then walked over to the fireplace and, without a second thought, tossed it into the low-burning embers. It smoldered for a second, then caught fire, the evidence of her "care" turning to ash.

"I will see you soon," she whispered. She pulled the thick covers up to his chin, a final, chilling parody of a loving wife. Then she left, closing the door on the man who was now just a stepping stone on her path to absolute power.

~ ••••• ~

The meeting room at Ellington Textiles was large and imposing. A long, polished table stretched down its center, surrounded by dozens of high-backed chairs. The room was filled with the most powerful men that held Ellington textile together: senior advisors, junior advisors, and wealthy investors, all dressed in their finest attires. At one end of the table, Delia sat beside Eric, her face calm but her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

An elderly advisor with a stern face, Mr. Roland, stood at the head of the table and cleared his throat, calling the room to order. "Good day, everyone. We will now begin the Ellington Textiles special advisory and investors meeting. The acting chairwoman will now start this meeting officially." He sat down, his duty done.

All eyes turned to Augusta as she rose and walked to the podium. She moved with a confident, regal grace. She looked out at the sea of serious faces, her gaze sweeping over Delia and Eric without a flicker of emotion. She placed her hands on the podium and smiled her practiced, reassuring smile.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Augusta Ellington," she began, her voice clear and steady. "Thank you for taking the time from your busy schedules to attend this very important meeting." A polite, but solid, round of applause erupted from the room. She already had them on her side.

Mr. Roland stood up again. "The first and most urgent item on the agenda is the change of chairmanship," he announced, his voice booming in the silent room. "We are here to vote on the resolution to officially dismiss Baron Edgar Ellington and Baron Henry Ellington from their duties, due to their ongoing and severe health issues." He looked around the room. "We will now begin the voting process. Are there any opposing parties to this resolution?"

The question was a formality. Augusta had spent the last month securing her votes, using a combination of charm, lies, and emotional manipulation. She stood at the podium, a small, triumphant smile on her face, ready to accept her victory. The room was silent. A moment passed.

Then, a single hand was raised.

It was a calm and deliberate gesture. A collective murmur went through the room. Heads turned, a sea of confused and surprised faces all looking in the same direction. Augusta’s victorious smile froze on her face, cracking like thin ice. Her eyes followed the gaze of the others, and a look of shock changed her expression.

The hand belonged to a woman sitting quietly at the other side of the table. A woman dressed in a simple but elegant gray dress, her expression perfectly composed.

It was Catherine Dalton.