Seeing that she had sent a voice message, Julian stopped struggling with his tie and connected his earphones to listen. The low, husky tone tickled his ear.
“Whatever you think fits the image you gave her the last time you saw her,” she said.
He cleared his throat and recorded a reply. “So… no ties? Should I wear a casual outfit, fitting the youthful, playful character?”
After sending it, he replayed her message, noticing that her voice sounded different from that morning. He quickly texted, Are you okay?
His mind wandered, remembering something important: when they met at the hospital, she had nearly been thrown to the ground. The hit from the kid hadn’t been light, and she had been cycling slowly that morning.
Before he could ask if he could stop by to check on her, she replied, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well. I’m going to a meeting; I might be late today.
Valerie got up after hearing a knock at the door. She hissed quietly, massaging her side as she reached for a bottle of pills in the drawer by the couch. Taking a sip of water from the cup on the table, she left the room entering her office.
Lukas was meticulously checking the folder on her desk for what felt like the thousandth time. Pressing on her throbbing temples, she instructed him, “The teams did a good job given the short notice. Just make sure they don’t stop digging. If they find anything vital while I’m in the meeting, send it to me.”
“Is the chairman in his office?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “He arrived with the vice chairman, but they didn’t stay together.”
“That greedy old man is absolutely hiding something,” Valerie said quietly. “Yet the vice chairman still claims he knows nothing.”
She sat down in her chair and began scrolling through the documents on her tablet.
Nearby, Lukas was sending instructions to the internal team while checking whether the external experts they had hired had sent any updates.
“As I mentioned before,” Lukas said, “the chairman was the first to reject anything related to AI when the hype began. Even implementing basic AI features on the company websites was difficult. If it hadn’t been for pressure from the board, he would never have allowed it.”
Valerie stared at the financial statements on the screen and fell into deep thought.
“And yet now he’s suddenly very supportive of this acquisition,” she said slowly. “Even though he wasn’t the one who suggested it. Calling a meeting within a week… it’s as if he’s afraid the deal will be snatched away.”
Lukas leaned closer to examine the statements.
“A year ago, the target company received a large round of funding,” he said. “That isn’t unusual in the advanced semiconductor industry. But in the last few months, the high efficiency AI processing chips they produce have attracted significant investor interest.”
He paused before continuing.
“They rejected acquisition attempts from several companies. Yet they weren’t nearly as opposed when we contacted them.”
Valerie looked up.
“You think the chairman secretly has a hand in the company.”
“It’s a possibility,” Lukas replied. “If that’s the case, it would be a serious conflict of interest. The meeting should be delayed until we receive confirmation from the forensic accountants and the external legal counsel.”
He hesitated slightly.
“Although our own legal department insists there is no conflict of interest, the chairman could have used certain channels to conceal it.”
Valerie leaned back in her chair and sighed.
“I know what kind of person my uncle is,” she said quietly. “But this time… I have a bad feeling. A storm is brewing.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the tablet.
“And I’m afraid Grandma will become the card he uses to pressure me.”
Her expression hardened.
“I won’t yield. But she will certainly be angry once we get entangled in this.”
She checked her watch and stood.
“It’s time. I’m going.”
Taking her tablet and the folder, she left the office. Lukas remained behind, silently hoping the chairman would not push her into her final stage of anger. She was already sleep deprived. If the chairman exceeded his usual vicious remarks or started questioning her capability in front of the board again, she might not limit herself to stirring trouble between his mistresses this time.
The boardroom occupies the top floor, symbolizing the head that moves and instructs the body.
Glass walls. Motorized shades half lowered against the afternoon glare. The city below appears distant and abstract. Inside, the air is calibrated to a neutral cool, the kind that preserves composure.
A long walnut table stretches the length of the room. Leather folders are placed at each seat. Embossed initials pressed into the corner of cream paper agendas. Bottled water aligned with geometric precision.
Two discreet screens glow at either end of the table, paused on the title slide:
Strategic Acquisition Review
Confidential
At the head of the table sits the nameplate: Chairman of the Board
Opposite it, centered with deliberate symmetry: Chief Executive Officer
The Corporate Secretary arrives first. Quiet and efficient. She arranges the voting cards, tests the microphone system, and checks the digital recording indicator.
The directors enter in pairs. Measured steps and Low conversations.
One reviews briefing notes with a faint crease between his brows. Another checks her phone before switching it off and taking her seat. They settle into their usual positions without instruction.
The Chief Financial Officer follows. A thin folder under his arm, a thicker one carried by an analyst who will leave shortly. He nods politely to the directors, places the financial models before the CEO’s chair, then sits two seats down.
The Head of Strategy and the Head of Mergers and Acquisitions take seats along the side wall rather than at the main voting positions. They are only Observers at this time . Their contributions are made behind the scenes, discussed by those who hold the voting power.
Valerie, the CEO, arrives without hurry.
She greets the directors by name, shakes hands, and takes her seat opposite the empty chairman’s chair. She opens her folder but does not read.
The room settles into the soft static of anticipation. Chairs adjust, water caps twist open. The city hums beyond the glass, indifferent.
The vice chairman enters next. His eyes meet Valerie’s for a brief second before he looks away. He greets the room politely and takes his seat, leaving only one chair empty.
Then the double doors open precisely at the scheduled minute.
The chairman enters last.
He carries no papers. His assistant stops at the threshold and closes the door behind him. The lock engages with a muted click.
He surveys the table once, a habit that resembles courtesy and inventory at the same time.
“Shall we begin?”
No one speaks.
The Corporate Secretary presses record.
The meeting begins.