Chapter 21 Unbroken Front

• "You’re sitting in his chair, Megan," Casian said, his voice flat and unreadable as he stood by the glass wall of the executive boardroom on the eighty-fifth floor.
• Outside, the mid-morning sun burned over Lower Manhattan, turning the East River into a sheet of polished bronze. Behind him, the massive oval table of polished walnut sat empty, save for two crystal water carafes and Megan, who occupied the high-backed leather seat at the absolute head of the table—the seat Arthur Morello had held for forty years.
• Megan didn't shift. She smoothed the crease of her emerald suit trousers, her sharp hazel eyes resting on the thick black leather binder open before her. "Arthur left me seventy percent of the voting equity, Casian. Technically, this isn't just his chair. It’s mine."