“Voting will now commence.”
The electronic system activates. The tablets lining the tables illuminate across the room. We even have a few remote members logging in.
The next several minutes feel longer than the previous month. Hell, even the last year that has somehow culminated in this exiled outcome for me.
One by one, votes are cast. Verified and locked beyond what my eyes can see.
Thirty minutes later, Ronald receives confirmation from legal counsel that the final tally has been certified. There is nothing left to do but to count and announce. It’s all automated, but manual verification will take another few minutes.
My pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. My gaze drifts to the members, instinctively looking forher. But she isn’t here. Wasn’t allowed to be here.
Across the room, Ronald’s jaw tightens slightly as he reviews the results. He makes sure not to lift his gaze and pin it on any of the voting members. Or even me.
In the front row, Taewon folds his hands. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks genuinely nervous. And that’s not a development I’d ever want in our dynamic. Even his role was reduced to a shareholder and nothing else, just like mine.
The room grows impossibly quiet before Ronald lifts his head. And every eye in the conference hall turns toward him. Then, to the screen behind him that showcases the weighted voting table.
The first thing I notice is my ace, Daniel Penner’s name, on top of the table. The largest shareholder, second only to me. The one whose vote held the most power to sway this game.
Next to him is the name I don’t expect. His betrayal disguised as the vote he cast.
Gracelyn Kim
I lost then, didn’t I? But all I do is smile.
‘Calm your heart, Levi.’
THIRTY-SIX
Levi
“Alright, everyone,” I hear Ronald rumble through the microphone, standing at the podium I once stood at, when I implicated my own family.
And today, that same podium will be witness to my final attempt at saving Astor Holdings. Not the legacy; I no longer cared about that.
But the list that follows Daniel’s name, which had each insignificant vote with my name on it, is just not enough, unfortunately.
I start thinking of next steps. The several interviews I gave this past month. I don’t have an offer yet, but I’ve been able to reach the third and fourth rounds easily. I even met many business owners who had been impressed by my portfolio.
I can do this. I know I can.
My gaze lowers as Ronald continues. “The votes are in. As you can see, even though the majority ofmembers voted in a certain direction, the weighted votes skew the results slightly.”
I still refuse to look up. Not even when a collective inhale travels through the hall.
“Matthew Holloway,” he continues, voice strained yet steady. “Weighted percentage of 16.7%.”
Great. He’s going to start from the lowest. I brace for my name.
“Gracelyn Kim.”
My head snaps up, my gaze boring into Ronald’s profile.
“39.8%.”
Math.
Why can’t I do simple fucking math right now?
