(Joseph Hamilton)
The boardroom felt different the moment I stepped in.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't hostile.
There were no raised voices or pointed accusations.
But something was… off.
The long glass table reflected the overhead lights too cleanly, too sharply, as if everything had been polished within an inch of its life. The familiar faces of the board members sat in their usual seats, folders neatly arranged, tablets powered on. Everything looked the same.
Yet the air was heavier.
Yvette sat at the head of the table, posture straight, expression calm. She wore a neutral-colored blazer today—professional, understated. The kind of outfit that didn't draw attention to itself. The kind that said I am here to work, not to perform.
I took my seat to her right, as I always did during board meetings this past year.
The meeting began.
At first, it was routine.
Quarterly performance reports.
Operational updates.
Regional summaries.
But then the questions started.
