Blackwood. The night security guard's surprise was evident as Jonathan and I entered the lobby at precisely 6:17 a.m. We weren't expecting you. Hello, George, I replied, gratified that I remembered his name from company holiday parties.
It's been too long. It sure has, ma'am. My deepest condolences about Mr. Blackwood.
His expression was genuinely sorrowful. He was a good man. Always remembered my kids' names. Thank you.
I accepted his sympathy with a gracious nod. I believe my son has scheduled an early meeting with board members. We'd like to prepare the main conference room. If George found this request unusual, he gave no indication.
Of course, ma'am. 15th floor. I'll notify daytime security you're here. As the elevator ascended, Jonathan reviewed our strategy one final time.
Henderson and Patterson will arrive first, likely by 7:30. Oliver will brief them before Westfield arrives at 8:00 a.m. We need to be settled in the board room before any of them appear. And the documents?
I confirmed. Jonathan patted his leather briefcase. Complete dossiers on the financial irregularities, the fraudulent company valuation, and Oliver's attempt to extract the intellectual property. Plus the Monarch Holdings acquisition documents revealing you as the sole owner.
The elevator doors opened onto the executive floor. A space I hadn't visited since a company anniversary celebration three years earlier. Little had changed. The same tasteful artwork depicting aerospace innovations throughout history, the same subtle gray carpet, the same wall of glass overlooking the manufacturing facilities below.
The board room dominated the floor's eastern side, its 20-ft mahogany table gleaming under recessed lighting. Richard's chair, larger than the others and positioned at the head of the table, remained unoccupied since his stroke three weeks earlier. According to Marcus, Oliver had never presumed to sit there during meetings, choosing instead the right-hand position traditionally reserved for the company president. Where should I sit?
I asked Jonathan as we entered the empty room. He considered the options, then gestured to Richard's chair. There. It sends the clearest message.
I hesitated, suddenly overwhelmed by the symbolism. To sit in Richard's place was to claim not just legal authority, but the mantle of leadership he had worn so naturally for decades. It's what he would want, Amelia, Jonathan said gently, reading my hesitation correctly. You're not replacing him.
You're protecting what he built. With a deep breath, I settled into the high-backed leather chair, arranging the materials Jonathan provided in a neat array before me. From this position, I could see through the glass wall to the elevator bank and reception area. We have clear visual warning when the others arrived.