Page 112 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
And then, more to himself than anyone else, he added, "Ophelia always did know when to play her ace."
Chapter 58
Crispin
The boardroom was already full when Crispin made his entrance, closely followed by Dorian and his PA, Patrick..
The polished walnut table gleamed, and tasteful flower arrangements on matching antique console tables brightened the décor of the otherwise dour cases made up one wall, while floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the grey morning made up the other. Tension vibrated in the air like static before a storm. Dorian sat to Crispin's right, sharp-eyed and composed. On his left, his PA silently slid a fresh notepad towards him, though he knew he wouldn't use it.
The worn leather armchair, the one his grandfather had once occupied with its deep creases and faint memory of aged tobacco, usually invited contemplation and nostalgia. Today, however, Crispin's seat chafed. He wondered if this was the last time he would be seated here at the head of the table.
Alice had arrived early. She looked immaculate, her shining hair twisted up in a severe knot. She wore a suit of scarlet, unusual for her as she usually preferred to blend in rather than stand out. They'd spoken quietly for a few moments. She had asked no questions, but her sharp nod before she stepped back told him she understood what today might mean.
"Don't worry, Cris. It will be fine," she said before she moved to take her seat next to Dorian.
Then the door opened to admit Simon, who strode in like a man about to announce his coronation.
Marcus followed him.
Crispin's jaw ticked. "Only stakeholders are invited to the ballot."
Simon's voice was lazy. "He's legal representation, for the paperwork after the vote."
The smug implication hovered like the foul stench of a rotten egg: this is a game already in the bag.
Crispin didn't respond, but he had to stop himself from grinding his teeth. He just took his seat and looked to the far side of the table, where his mother had followed his father and was already seated beside Simon. She avoided his eyes, and that told him all he needed to know.
He was done hoping that they would come around.
"Let's get this over with," Simon said, barely containing a yawn.
The chairman cleared his throat and began the ballot.
The first vote was a formality.
"Silent partner by remote vote, three percent to dismiss," he read out.
Next came Simon. "Fourteen percent to dismiss."
Simon smirked while trying to stare Crispin down and nudging the woman beside him.
Crispin's mother startled, as if waking from a dream. Her mouth was tight and her shoulders sagged, but after a long pause, she finally said in a slightly shaky voice, "Twenty percent...to dismiss."
The room shifted with energy. Furtive glances slid Crispin's way. There were stifled coughs and muffled words exchanged as tension thickened like storm clouds.
Crispin held his father's gaze as he announced in an even voice, "Twenty-eight percent to retain."
"Five percent," Dorian followed it up, "to retain."
Thirty-three percent for Crispin versus thirty-seven to dismiss.
What followed was an expectant silence, as if everyone was holding their collective breath, waiting for the tables to turn somehow.
Simon leaned forward, the smirk already curling into a full-fledged smile of victory. "The remaining votes have abstained. So, I propose that my brother, Marcus Du Valares, be appointed as the next managing-"
"There's one more vote to be cast," Crispin said coolly, cutting him off.
Heads turned as if pulled by invisible strings.
