Page 106 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
I attempt to smooth my hair and straighten the clothes I wore yesterday. Thankfully, Ava had sent over a bag with toiletries and a spare, conservative-but-chic dress via Gideon’s ever-efficient network. Bless her organized heart.
Dressed, minimally made-up, and fueled by lukewarm coffee from the machine down the hall, I feel marginally more human.
But ready to fight?
Let’s just say I’m ready to show up and try not to throw up.
Victor is waiting downstairs, expressionless as ever.
The ride downtown is quiet. I stare out at the morning commuters, all looking so blissfully unaware that Hammond & Co. might be built on a foundation of potentially illegal corporate shenanigans.
Ignorance is bliss, people. Cherish it.
I wish Christopher was here. His solid presence, that unnerving calm he projects even when delivering terrifying news… it would help. But this is my fight.
I have to walk in there alone.
Stay focused, Lucy. And remember, you faced down the Executioner himself.
You can handle Morgan Weiss and a few grumpy old men.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
The Hammond & Co. lobby feels different today. Quieter. Subdued.
Carol gives me a worried look as I pass, whispering, “Good luck, dear. Give ‘em hell.”
I manage a weak smile. For some reason her words bring tears to my eyes, but I quickly blink them back. I blame it on the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of days. That, and the lack of sleep.
The boardroom is already mostly full.
Jesus. Everyone had to come, didn’t they?
Of course they did. My father is hospitalized, and there’s ostensibly no one in charge of the company.
I can feel the tension in the room. Morgan is holding court at one end of the table, looking infuriatingly smug. He meets my eyes as I enter, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his cold, calculating gaze.
Oh, I’d love to wipe that smirk off your face.
I take my usual seat, arranging my tablet and notepad with hands that are only shaking a little.
The meeting starts with perfunctory expressions of concern for Dad, led by Morgan, naturally, laying the sympathy on thick.
Then he pivots.
“Of course, Richard’s regrettable and sudden incapacitation leaves a significant leadership vacuum,” Morgan says smoothly, steepling his fingers. “While Lucy has certainly been… involved… lately, the complexities facing the company now require a steady, experienced hand at the helm. Especially considering certain… legacy risks inherent in our portfolio that demand careful navigation.” He glances around the table meaningfully.
Translation: I know about the SPEs, you idiots,and only I can handle the fallout without landing us all in court. Put me in charge.
Anger wars with anxiety. Christopher’s words echo in my head.Fight.
“Thank you for your concern, Morgan,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm and steady. I meet his gaze directly. “Dad’s situation is serious, and his recovery is our top priority. However, Hammond & Co. is not without direction.” I glance around the table, making eye contact with each board member. “As you all know, I’ve been deeply involved in operations for some time now, managing the recent restructuring efforts, and addressing the Hammond Tower crisis directly.” I pause, letting that sink in. “And, crucially, negotiating the partnership with Blackwell Innovations. A partnership, I might add, that Mr. Blackwell himself has tied directly to my continued operational leadership.”
Okay, maybe I pulled the Christopher card there, but still, it seemed the right place to use it.
“A partnership that introduces its own complexities,” Morgan counters smoothly. “Perhaps aninterimCEO, someone with extensive experience in crisis management and financial restructuring… would be prudent? Someone like myself. Someone who could fix things without having to rely on an external partner like Blackwell. Just until Richard is back on his feet, of course.” He gives a modest little shrug, as if the thought of himself in the role just magically popped into his head.
Right. And I spontaneously sprout wings.
