Chapter 15
“You’re right about one thing.”
I walked past him.
“I spent three years not knowing what was happening in my own marriage.”
At the doorway, I stopped.
“But I’m learning.”
That evening, I stayed in a guest suite at my father’s townhouse.
Mr.
Harlan called shortly after eight.
“Eleanor, I need you to see something.”
“What is it?”
“Caleb has sent a memorandum to several members of the Whitmore Group board.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does it say?”
“He is requesting an emergency meeting to discuss temporary executive authority following Robert’s death.”
“That sounds like company business.”
“It would be, except he has attached a statement questioning your ability to perform fiduciary duties.”
I closed my eyes.
He was doing exactly what he had threatened.
Using my grief.
Using my pregnancy.
Trying to convince powerful people that I was too unstable to protect what my father had left me.
Mr.
Harlan continued.
“He is also asking the board to recognize the disputed proxy.”
I opened my eyes.
“When is the meeting?”
“Three days from now.”
For a moment, I heard my husband’s voice again.
You’re worthless now.
Then I looked at the letter lying beside me.
Ellie must always have the ability to say no.
I straightened.
“Tell the board I’ll be there.”
Mr.
Harlan paused.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
I rested my hand on my stomach.
“Caleb wants everyone to believe I can’t speak for myself.”
My daughter moved gently beneath my palm.
“Then I think it’s time they heard me.”
Chapter 4: The boardroom reckoning
Three days later, I walked into the Whitmore Group boardroom carrying my father’s leather folder.
Caleb was already there.
He sat near the head of the long conference table, wearing a charcoal suit and the expression of a man who had convinced himself that victory was inevitable.
Vanessa sat along the wall with the invited advisers.
When Caleb saw me, his eyes narrowed.
I could almost hear what he was thinking.
She wasn’t supposed to come.
She was supposed to stay home.
She was supposed to cry, panic, and sign whatever he placed in front of her.
Instead, I took a seat across from him.
“Good morning, Caleb.”
He glanced at Mr.
Harlan, who entered behind me.
“This meeting isn’t appropriate for Eleanor.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not well.”
“I’m pregnant, Caleb.
I’m not unconscious.”
A few board members shifted in their seats.