Chapter Sixty-Seven

The boardroom was a beehive. The noise could be heard from a mile away; everyone wanted to speak at once, but no one wanted to listen. It reminded me of kindergarten, where there were no rules and every kid just cried and played.

The noise died once I opened the double doors and stepped in. Every head in the room turned in my direction, and one by one, they began to settle. I was like the teacher whom every kid feared in high school.

Gates, who had met me at the lobby, slipped into one of the chairs reserved for secretaries and guests who were not part of the board and settled into it while I strolled to my seat at the head of the table. Their eyes followed me as I moved, like surveillance cameras.

I placed my hands on the table and skimmed my eyes over everyone in the room. Before, I would have thought of something to draw confidence from, but now, my anxiety gives me enough confidence. How could they go and betray me like this? I called an emergency meeting without my knowledge, an