Silence follows when I subtly place both my hands on either side of the podium—a gesture meant to showcase my authority. But I can’t seem to get my heart to calm down.
Anything could go wrong. I could say the wrong thing. My parents could tactfully turn everyone against me, maybe even take me down with them. But isn’t that why that Kabir guy is here? He said he’d support, right?
Fuck.
Instead of spiraling again, I settle my attention on Cece. Who is staring at me with an unreadable expression—but I can see her eyes gleaming with pride. So I imagine her hand on my heart yet again and a quiet wave of calm washes over.
“Thank you everyone… for joining me at such short notice,” I say into the mic. “But there are some things that need addressing, and I didn’t want to do that via emails.”
“I barely check them during weekends, Levi,” I hear Daniel Penner’s quip, a familiar ease of humor in it. He’s one of the good ones.
I give him a quick smirk, gaze pinning on him in the third row. Trying my best to match his tone. “Well, my sincerest apologies for interfering with your Friday golf schedule, Daniel. But I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”
A soft rumble of chuckles follows which quickly dies when I clear my throat. “Alright. So, I’ve been made aware that Astor Holdings’ Capital Funds division has been under investigation.” The murmurs start low. “…by the federal intelligence agency.”
Well, if silence was what I thought I heard before, my words have quickly sent a ripple of discourse across the whole room. I can fucking hear the quickened breathing of thefelonsin the front row.
I steady my hands on the podium, willing the tremor in my fingers to vanish. “After a full-scale internal audit, conducted by external and undisclosed agents,” I continue, keeping my voice even, devoid of the emotion searing my insides, “it was discovered that four members of our board are directly entangled in a decades-long hive embezzlement operation that has laundered over three hundred and fifty million dollars across subsidiary accounts globally—the actual figures are still unknown.”
A collective inhale breaks across the room like a snapped string.
My gaze sweeps the front row again, instinctively locking onto the only two faces I dreaded watching the most.
My mother stiffens first. Her jaw clenched so tight I can see the pulse ticking at the edge of her temple.She’s giving me that motherly, reprimanding glare that is supposed to shut me up.
My father stares at his own hands like they’ve been dipped in someone else’s blood. Pale. Trembling. Unmoving.
And Gareth—fucking Gareth—he’s lost all color. But somehow, he still manages to twist his neck and glare at Cece with a contempt so acidic it scalds something primal in me.
If he looks at her like that again, I swear to God—I will leap this fucking podium and drive his skull into the goddamn wall.
But I don’t.
Because I’ve waited too long for this moment. We’ve waited too long.
I take a breath—ignoring Charles, who has dropped his head into his hands. My gaze flicks back to the rest of the room, a sea of confusion. Muted murmurs mounting under their breath.
“This has been going on for over forty years,” I continue. “Under our noses. Wrapped in the comfort of legacy and generational trust. But today… we will end it.”
That’s when the wall behind me shifts.
The mechanical whir of the screen rising breaks through the hush.
Gasps cut through the air, sharp.
A digital cascade of documents—transfers, falsified records, flagged routing codes—flashes in rapid succession. Until finally, the screen settles on four faces, crystal clear.
Gareth Astor.
Odette Astor.
Thomas Astor.
Charles Gaither.
Their titles are listed below. Their percentage shares blinking beside each name.
The boardroom detonates into chaos. Chairs scrape. Voices rise. Someone slams their fist into the table.
