Chapter 6 - Shadows at the Boardroom Table
Silence descended upon the boardroom so heavy you could hear the hum of the ventilation system. Daniel stared at me, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish out of water. The legal documents he had spent months crafting lay scattered across the mahogany table like autumn leaves.
"E-Elena?" Daniel stammered, his polished facade cracking into jagged pieces. "How... the doctors said you were in a coma... you had severe trauma..."
"Miraculous recovery, darling," I said smoothly, walking right up to the head of the table and pulling out the chair directly opposite him. I didn't sit; I rested my hands on the back of the leather chair, leaning forward slightly. "You know what they say—evil never rests, so neither do I."
Arthur Sterling stood up, looking between Daniel and me in absolute bewilderment. "Elena! Thank goodness. Daniel told us you were incapacitated, that you suffered a severe mental breakdown after the gala..."
"Did he?" I turned my gaze toward Arthur, letting my eyes harden like ice. "Strange how my loving husband was more eager to bury my professional career than check on my physical recovery. Almost as if he had pre-written the paperwork before I even hit the floor."
"That's a lie!" Daniel shouted, his voice cracking with panic as he recovered a shred of his composure. He pointed a shaking finger at me. "She's delusional! The concussion has caused severe cognitive dissonance! Look at her head, look at the bandages! She doesn't know what she's saying!"
"On the contrary, Daniel, I've never been more lucid in my life," I replied, snapping my fingers.
The side doors opened, and Marcus Hale walked in, carrying a heavy-duty portable audio amplifier. He placed it squarely in the center of the conference table and pressed play.
Instantly, the crisp, unmistakable audio recording of the previous night filled the boardroom.
"She’s alive," Daniel's voice echoed from the speakers.
"What if she remembers?" Vanessa's voice trembled.
"She won’t remember anything. By tomorrow, we’ll have the account codes. By Friday, the money will be offshore."
The color drained entirely from Daniel's face. He looked at the speaker as if it were a bomb about to detonate. The members of the board sat frozen, their eyes darting between the audio player and Daniel's sweat-beaded forehead. Beatrice Thorne covered her mouth with her hand, gasping in horror.
"What... what is this?" Arthur Sterling demanded, his voice trembling with outrage. "Daniel, is that your voice?"
"It's a deepfake! It's AI-generated audio!" Daniel screamed, lunging across the table toward the speaker in a desperate attempt to smash it. "Elena set me up! She's trying to frame me!"
Before Daniel could reach the amplifier, two burly private security guards—hired by Marcus specifically for this moment—grabbed Daniel by the shoulders and slammed him down hard into his chair, pinning his arms behind his back.
"Keep your hands where we can see them, Mr. Vance," Marcus said coldly, stepping forward with his arms crossed. "Resisting corporate security will only add another charge to your growing list."
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I walked slowly around the table, stopping right beside Daniel's chair. I leaned down until my lips were inches from his ear, whispering the exact words he had spoken to me while I lay bleeding on the rug.
"By tomorrow, we’ll have the account codes," I whispered softly. "Isn't that what you said, Daniel?
