Chapter 90 The Reckoning

• The conference room was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Twelve board members sat in an arc around the long mahogany table, their gazes sharp, expectant. At the head, Winston Darrow, the chairman, leaned forward, fingers laced together.
• Clara stood at the other end, her pulse hammering in her throat. The accusations against her loomed like a storm cloud, thickening the air with hostility.
• Evelyn Whitaker, sharp as ever, tapped her manicured nails against the table. "Ms. Chandler," she began, her voice cutting through the tension, "you have precisely five minutes to convince this board why we shouldn’t strip you of your position and hand you over to the authorities for industrial sabotage."