Page 144 of Dirty Damage

Boris scans the room, his mustache twitching in a suppressed smirk. “Spoken like someone who is lacking the wisdom and caution that comes with experience.”

Turning his back to me, he opens his own laptop.

The screen behind me flickers and changes. My carefully prepared slides vanish, replaced by internal testing data that should have been secure behind multiple firewalls.

Data showing early prototype failures.

Vulnerabilities that my team resolved months ago.

“As you can see,” Boris continues, his voice dripping with false concern, “there are significant issues with signal degradation in heavy weather. Not to mention the power consumption problems…”

The board members lean forward, frowning at numbers that paint an incomplete picture. Numbers stolen from my private servers.

How the fuck did he?—?

I meet my uncle’s eyes across the table and see the triumph there.

The bastard thinks he’s won.

“These numbers are outdated,” I cut in, keeping my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. “Our latest test results show?—”

“Is that so?” Boris affects an expression of exaggerated concern. “This data is from your own servers, nephew. Are you suggesting your research team has been falsifying reports?”

The subtle trap in his words makes my jaw clench. Any defense I offer now will only make me sound desperate or incompetent.

He’s played this perfectly, the crafty old fuck.

I scan the faces around the table. Rodney still looks interested, but uncertain now. The others are already shifting in their seats, preparing to side with whoever holds the most power.

Right now, that’s Boris.

“The question before us today is simple,” Boris continues, spreading his hands. “Do we risk the company’s future on an unproven system? Or do we maintain our position as industry leaders in traditional shipbuilding?”

“‘Traditional’?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “The maritime security landscape is evolving. Our competitors are already developing similar systems. If we don’t adapt?—”

“Then we’ll do what we’ve always done—we’ll make careful, methodical moves. We won’t chase every shiny new bauble that comes along.”

I clench my fists and watch decades of accumulated loyalty and influence tip the scales against innovation.

“I move that we put it to a vote,” Boris announces.

My mother finally raises her hand. “I suggest we table the discussion until?—”

“No.” I cut her off. “Let’s vote now.”

Why?

Because fuck it.

I want every person on this board to show their true colors.

I want to see exactly who I’m dealing with.

It’s the same shitshow as before. The votes are split between us, with my mother abstaining. Which means Boris’s position as CEO gives him the deciding say-so.

He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk as he delivers the final nail. “Motion denied. Now, shall we adjourn to my office for drinks?”

He sweeps out of the boardroom, followed by his loyal brood of brainless lackeys.

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