"That's exactly what troubles me," Hale replied. "You always speak as if we owe our judgment to you. We don't. We owe it to this company."
Eleanor called the vote. Nine directors supported suspending Warren's executive duties pending review, while Victor Salter alone voted against the motion. The eight-vote threshold in the continuity protocol had been met, and independent counsel confirmed that the board could implement the suspension if no court order prevented it. At 10:05, Eleanor announced the result and directed security to supervise Warren's departure from the executive floors.
"You'll regret this," Warren told her, leaning across the table. "I put half this board where it sits, and I can take people out of those chairs just as easily."
Eleanor glanced at her phone, which was recording the properly noticed meeting. "Your statement will be preserved in the minutes," she replied. "I'm not interested in arguing about it."
Benjamin Lindor met Warren near the elevators. The security chief wore his uniform jacket but carried his cap in his hand, an old habit when facing a superior who might be angry. Eleanor had instructed him to escort the suspended executive out without confrontation, and he seemed almost grateful to receive a direction that did not involve humiliating anyone. He kept a respectful distance and asked Warren to accompany him downstairs.
The lobby was full when the elevator opened. Word of the board session had reached the lower floors, and employees stood along the marble walkway with coffee cups in their hands. Warren crossed the room with his shoulders squared, pretending that the escort was a formality. Benjamin walked one pace behind him, looking straight ahead.
Somebody began to clap. It was a young analyst near the coffee cart, followed by a woman from procurement and several employees who had spent years watching Warren punish small acts of independence. The applause spread unevenly, less like a celebration than an involuntary release of tension. Therese remained at her desk, one hand resting on the closed black notebook, and watched him pass without joining in.
At the glass doors, Warren stopped and turned toward Daniel, who had followed the group down with Rory. His face was no longer red with rage. It was calm, almost pleasant, the expression of a man who had just remembered a card hidden in his sleeve. "Check your email, Mr. Carter," he said quietly, and walked outside.
At 10:50, Daniel's phone vibrated. Rory's followed a second later, and then Eleanor's. A copy of an emergency court order had been transmitted to the parties through counsel, with formal service being arranged immediately. The order had been signed at 9:40, before the suspension vote was completed, based on the affidavits and arguments Warren's legal team had submitted.
Rory read the key provisions twice. Pending Monday's hearing, the court had temporarily suspended the exercise of the disputed voting rights attached to Carter Meridian's acquisition and paused the effect of Daniel's appointment as executive chairman. It also barred implementation of changes to Summit's executive leadership based on the challenged ownership transition. That meant the board's vote, taken after the order's effective time, could not be implemented while the order remained in force.
Warren returned through the glass doors behind his attorney, who carried a copy of the papers. The attorney addressed the board representatives respectfully but loudly enough for the lobby to hear. "The company is on notice of a temporary restraining order preserving the prior executive arrangement until Monday's hearing," he said. "We expect immediate compliance."