Chapter 6: The Boardroom Bluff
The Sterling Foundation headquarters was unnervingly quiet when Harry pushed through the heavy glass doors late the next morning. He hadn't slept, having spent the night in a chair beside Chloe’s ICU bed, but adrenaline and righteous fury kept his posture ramrod straight.
He bypassed his own corner office and walked directly toward the executive boardroom. Through the frosted glass, he could see the silhouettes of several people. He didn't knock. He simply pushed the oak doors open.
Sitting at the head of the table—his table—was Arthur, wearing a smug, practiced expression. Beside him sat Beatrice, flipping through a legal pad. Three of the Foundation's senior board members were seated opposite them, looking highly uncomfortable.
The room fell dead silent as Harry walked in.
"Harry," Arthur said, standing up quickly, feigning surprise. He plastered a look of deep concern across his face. "My god. We didn't expect to see you here today. The hospital called—they said Chloe was in a coma. We've been absolutely sick with worry."
"Have you?" Harry asked smoothly, walking slowly around the perimeter of the room. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to. The sheer gravity of his presence commanded the space.
"Of course," Beatrice chimed in, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "It was a horrific accident. Just... a terrible tragedy. We were just telling the board that we need to step up and handle the Foundation’s affairs while you take a leave of absence to grieve."
"Grieve?" Harry stopped right behind Arthur’s leather chair. "My wife is alive, Beatrice. And so is my daughter. They are both doing remarkably well, all things considered."
Arthur’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, a brief flash of panic in his eyes before he masked it. "A daughter? That’s... that's a miracle, Uncle Harry. Truly."
"It is," Harry agreed softly, leaning down slightly so his voice was right next to Arthur’s ear. "The doctors told me she’s a fighter. Just like her father."
Harry straightened up and looked at the three board members, who were shrinking into their seats. "There will be no leave of absence. The Foundation will operate as usual. Arthur, I appreciate you trying to... fill my shoes. But that won't be necessary. You can return to your standard duties."
"Harry, be reasonable," Arthur stammered, trying to regain his footing. "You need to be with your family. You can't possibly focus on work after such a traumatic... fall."
"Oh, I am entirely focused, Arthur," Harry said, his eyes locking onto his nephew's with a terrifying, unblinking intensity. "In fact, I've never seen things more clearly. The police are conducting a thorough investigation of the foyer. They’re very interested in how a healthy young woman could slip on a dry, perfectly level marble landing."
Beatrice dropped her pen. It clattered loudly against the mahogany table.
"I've also ordered a full audit of the building's security systems," Harry continued, savoring the way Arthur's face was slowly draining of color. "Just to ensure there are no... technical glitches. We wouldn't want any blind spots in this building, would we?"
"No," Arthur swallowed hard. "Of course not."
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"Good." Harry turned toward the door. "I'll be splitting my time between here and the hospital. If anyone needs me, they know where to find me. Have a productive afternoon."
As Harry walked out of the boardroom and let the heavy doors click shut behind him, he knew he had just declared war. And he was going to make sure they burned.
