The Table, Not the Wall
Roman Voss published at six a.m., two hours before the emergency shareholder meeting Gideon had called himself.
The headline didn't spare anyone: *Ravenscroft Heir Faked Success For Years — And His Father Knew.*
By seven, Emeric's phone had more messages than he could read. By seven-thirty, IT security called him directly.
"Forty-seven files were deleted from the shared drive last night," the security lead said. "Admin credentials. We can see whose."
Emeric already knew whose.
He went to find Thea instead of answering. She was in the war room they'd set up overnight, three monitors glowing, hair pulled back like she hadn't slept.
"He deleted the evidence," Emeric said.
"He deleted his copy," Thea said, not looking up. "I mirrored the drive two days ago. After I found the folder. I didn't trust any of this to stay put." She turned the monitor toward him. Every file, intact. "I wasn't protecting you, Emeric. I was protecting the truth. Turns out it's the same thing today."
At eight, the boardroom filled — shareholders, board members, Kessler at the front looking like a man who'd been right and hated that it took this long to matter. Percy sat at the far end of the table, not the head of it, for the first time in his life.
Gideon stood.
"Twenty minutes ago," he said, "I filed the paperwork to remove Percival Ravenscroft from all executive roles at this company, effective immediately, pending the board's formal vote."
Percy didn't argue. He looked, Emeric thought, almost relieved.
"I'm also proposing," Gideon continued, "a successor for interim leadership, subject to board approval, backed by eleven years of documentation I'll make available to every person in this room."
He didn't say the name yet.
He looked toward the door, where Emeric stood, unsure if he was even supposed to be in the room.
"Mr. Marchetti," Gideon said, "would you come to the table this time? Not the wall. The table."
Every head turned. Kessler leaned forward. Solveig, near the back, pressed a hand to her mouth.
Emeric took one step forward — and the boardroom doors opened behind him, and Odalys Marchetti walked in, still in her apron, holding something in her hands he couldn't yet see.