Chapter 24

The spacious boardroom was filled with an unusual tension, the atmosphere thick with unexpressed accusations. The gleaming mahogany table mirrored the somber faces of the directors gathered around it. Ronald Wellington occupied the position at the head of the table, his piercing glance surveying the room, challenging anyone to dispute his authority.

Mr. Harris leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we cannot overlook the current predicament. Public trust in Wellington Holdings has significantly declined. The media is unrelenting, portraying us as a chaotic organization, and the shareholders… they are becoming increasingly restless.”

A wave of whispers coursed through the room. Mrs. Caldwell, who was typically the voice of reason, adjusted her glasses and interjected, “Let’s not be hasty. We’ve navigated scandals before. Ronald has guided us through tougher times.”

“Have we really?” Harris retorted, his tone biting. “The figures speak for themselves. The stock has dropped 15% this quarter. Our investors are seeking explanations. This isn’t solely about revenue—it’s about trust. The turmoil surrounding Amelia Rodriguez, Jake’s premature death, and now Amelia’s vanishing act—it’s all getting overwhelming.”

Ronald eventually responded, his voice icy and commanding. “Wellington Holdings was established to withstand storms, not to collapse under their weight. The media thrives on sensational headlines, but they are not our focus. Our focus is the work we accomplish and the outcomes we produce. That’s what truly matters.”

The room fell quiet, yet the tension remained palpable. Harris reclined in his chair, his lips tightly pressed together.

Mrs. Caldwell softened her approach. “Ronald, we have faith in your leadership, but perception holds significant importance. A corporation is as much about its image as it is about its financial performance. The public’s view of Wellington Holdings is closely linked to the family name, and at this moment, that name is in turmoil.”

Ronald's jaw clenched, though he did not respond immediately. His silence conveyed a great deal.

Following the meeting, Ronald withdrew to his office, the burden of the conversation weighing heavily on him. He loosened his tie and settled into his chair, his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond the window.

A knock on the door broke his train of thought. Without waiting for an invitation, Mr. Raphael entered, his expression a blend of concern and determination.

“Raphael,” Ronald acknowledged, motioning to the chair opposite him. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I felt it was time for us to have a discussion,” Raphael replied, lowering himself into the chair. He placed a leather-bound notebook on the desk, a remnant of the years he had spent as Ronald’s father’s closest advisor.

Ronald raised an eyebrow. “You heard about the board meeting.”

“I did,” Raphael said, his tone balanced. “And I’m here because I’m concerned.”

Ronald leaned back, crossing his arms. “Concerned about what specifically?”

Raphael's gaze remained steady. “The future of the company. Your father established Wellington Holdings on more than just financial success. He built it on trust—trust in the name, trust in the leadership. At this moment, that trust is deteriorating.”

Ronald scoffed. “Do you believe I’m unaware? I’m doing everything within my power to keep this company afloat.”

“But you're not approaching it in the right manner,” Raphael retorted. “Ronald, you’ve distanced yourself. You’ve excluded those who could assist you, and you’re attempting to bear this burden alone. That’s not leadership—that’s arrogance.”

Ronald’s demeanor stiffened. “Are you implying I’m unable to lead?”

“No,” Raphael replied with conviction. “I’m saying you need to lead in a different manner. Your father recognized the significance of relationships—within the firm, with the public, and most critically, with the family. You’ve lost perspective on that.”

Ronald paused for a moment, his eyes wandering to the photograph of his father on the desk. “What do you propose I do, Raphael? The media is circling like vultures, the board is anxious, and the family… it’s fragmented.”

“Begin by addressing the family,” Raphael advised. “Seek common ground with those who remain. Catherine is unpredictable; she needs direction. And Amelia… wherever she may be, she’s still involved in this narrative. Don’t allow her absence to become a liability.”

Ronald’s expression grew darker. “Amelia made her choice. She left. I can’t afford to waste time pursuing phantoms.”

“Phantoms have a tendency to return,” Raphael said enigmatically. “And when they do, you must be prepared. Don’t allow hubris to cloud your judgment, Ronald. You have an opportunity to turn this situation around, but only if you proceed wisely.”

As Raphael rose to depart, he placed a comforting hand on Ronald’s shoulder. “You’re fundamentally a good person, Ronald. Don’t allow the burden of this legacy to change who you are.”

Ronald observed him leave, his words hanging in the atmosphere like a provocation.

Elsewhere in the city, Catherine was seated in her opulent office, her legs crossed gracefully as she savored a glass of champagne. Her mother, Beatrice, was on the speakerphone, her laughter resonating in the space.

“So, the board is beginning to lose confidence in Ronald?” Beatrice inquired, her tone laden with satisfaction.

“They’re starting to notice the flaws,” Catherine answered, a devious smile forming on her face. “The media frenzy surrounding Amelia’s disappearance is benefiting public perception. They’re portraying her as the tragic figure while casting Ronald as the antagonist.”

“Excellent,” Beatrice said. “The more Ronald stumbles, the simpler it will be for you to present yourself as the redeemer of Wellington Holdings.”

Catherine twirled her glass, the champagne sparkling in the light. “Amelia’s absence is actually advantageous. It’s one less complication for me to manage. And without Jake, there’s no one remains to safeguard her interests.”

“Don’t underestimate Amelia,” Beatrice cautioned. “Just because she has vanished doesn’t indicate she’s been defeated. If she resurfaces, she could still wreak havoc. You must ensure there’s nothing left for her to return to—no allies, no support, and no leverage.”

Catherine’s grin evaporated, replaced by a fierce determination. “She’ll discover nothing but ruins. I will guarantee it.”

“That’s my girl,” Beatrice purred. “Keep your focus on the goal. We’re almost there now.”

Catherine hung up the call and leaned back in her chair, resembling a queen observing her realm. The game was far from finished, but she felt confident in her triumph.

As darkness descended, Ronald stood by the window of his penthouse, gazing at the twinkling city lights. A glass of whiskey, half-consumed, rested on the table behind him, neglected.

The words from earlier replayed in his mind—Harris’s accusations, Raphael’s warnings, and the rising skepticism from the board. He thought of Amelia, her abrupt exit, and the gap she had left. Despite their conflicts, she had been a significant presence in his life that he now felt deeply.

He lifted the glass and took a long drink, the sting of the whiskey doing little to alleviate the pain within. He was isolated, surrounded by influence yet lacking any connection.

The burden of his father’s legacy weighed heavily on him, a perpetual reminder of the standards he had yet to meet.

For the first time in many years, Ronald felt uncertain.