And the moment the person on the other end picked up, the color slowly drained from Marcus Blake’s face.
The boardroom had been loud with confidence just moments ago. Now it was holding its breath.
Patricia Cole held the phone to her ear with the same steady calm she had carried into the room.
No shaking hands, no nervous glances, just a woman making a phone call the way you do when you have nothing to hide and everything to prove.
Yes, she said quietly into the phone. Bring them now, please. All of them. The original shareholder certificates, the founding trust documents, and the transfer records from 1993.
She paused, listening. Yes, floor 42. I’ll be here. She ended the call and placed her phone face down on the table.
Then she folded her hands again and waited. Marcus Blake had stopped smiling. Not dramatically, not all at once.
The way a fire goes out when the air is slowly taken from the room.
Gradually, quietly, completely, he looked at his lead attorney. His attorney looked at the board member across the table.
The board member looked at his hands. Nobody looked at Marcus. That was the first sign.
When powerful men stop making eye contact with you, it is never a good sign.
What documents is she referring to? Marcus asked. His voice was still controlled, still confident, but something underneath it had shifted.
The board member cleared his throat. Sir, there is a matter we perhaps should have addressed before today’s meeting.
