Chapter 12: The Board Meeting
The heavy mahogany doors of the executive boardroom swung open precisely at nine in the morning, revealing a sunlit room that felt more like a courtroom than a meeting space. The long polished oak table, usually reserved for polite disagreements and polite applause for corporate donors, was charged with an electric, suffocating tension. Celeste sat at the head of the table in her sharp charcoal pantsuit, her blonde hair perfectly styled, though a faint shadow of fatigue clung to her eyes. Martin sat to her right, wearing a dark suit instead of his usual tuxedo, his fingers nervously tapping against a leather folio. When Adrian and I walked in, wheeling Eleanor between us while Marcus secured the doors from the inside, the temperature in the room plummeted. Celeste stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the parquet floor. "What is the meaning of this?" Celeste demanded, her voice shrill and defensive. "This is a closed executive session. Staff and unauthorized outsiders have no business being here." Martin sneered, leaning back in his chair with a forced air of superiority. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Elena. Security will be escorting you out in about ten seconds." I didn't flinch. I stepped forward, resting my hands on the back of Eleanor's silver wheelchair, and met Celeste's furious gaze head-on. "We aren't leaving, Celeste," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent room. "And neither is the true founder of this museum." Adrian stepped to the side, placing the heavy leather briefcase on the center of the mahogany table and flipping the brass latches open with a sharp click. "Before you call security, Celeste, you might want to review these federal asset freeze orders and the forensic audit of the foundation's accounts," Adrian said calmly, his voice cutting through the rising panic in the room. He pulled out the master file binder and slid copies across the polished wood toward Martin. Martin's face drained of color as he glanced down at the first page, his fingers freezing mid-tap. "These... these are stolen," Martin stammered, his facade instantly crumbling into desperation. "You had no right to access the private archives." Celeste slammed her palms onto the table, leaning forward with bared teeth. "You think a couple of disgruntled employees and a handful of forged papers are going to bring us down?" Celeste spat, her voice trembling with rage. "We control the board. We control the narrative." Eleanor raised her hand slightly, signaling us to be silent. The room went dead quiet as the elderly woman wheeled herself slightly forward, her presence commanding the entire space without a single raised voice. "You control nothing, Celeste," Eleanor said quietly, looking directly into her eyes. "The board was never yours. And today, the world is going to find out exactly what you've been hiding behind my name."
