The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

Royce took a moment to look at each member, driving the point home.

“When he discovered the truth about Ascension, he didn’t back down. He just kept pushing for the acquisition, even as he knew what a terrible buy it was going to be. He didn’t care. To him, all that mattered was closing. He carelessly put us into debt to buy Ascension, even as he knew it wasn’t going to bring a return, and the result is millions of dollars lost for our shareholders. You want to know why?”

His expression demanded attention and his words were full of conviction.

“Because the great and powerful Macalister Hale doesn’t believe he’s capable of making mistakes. He’s unfit to continue as the chairman of this board, and I call for a vote of no-confidence in his leadership.”

Cold slithered along the table from Macalister, blanketing the room, and his tone was just as frosty. “Are you finished?”

When Royce nodded, Macalister turned his attention to the rest of the board. It was his turn now to plead his case.

“My son is young, inexperienced, and too impatient to see the long-term gains that are to be had with Ascension. I admit their issues are great, but they’re not systemic. I can and will turn the bow of the ship, but only I have the expertise to do so.”

It was clear he had more to say, but Mr. Lynch looked squirrely sitting beside his boss. “I agree,” he interrupted. “Macalister has my full confidence, and voting any other way would be unwise.”

Spoken like a true lackey.

Mr. Burrows wasn’t fazed by the threat. “I have the same concerns as Royce and, regrettably, must vote no-confidence.”

And just like that, we were off. The rest of Macalister’s prepared argument was pocketed, and it was for the best. I’d heard it in the car this morning and doubted it would change anyone’s mind.

I wasn’t sure who would vote next, but Macalister’s gaze fell on Mr. Powell. His eyebrows pulled together as he contemplated his vote. “While I’m incredibly disappointed in the lack of care Macalister exercised, a change in leadership is the last thing HBHC needs right now. I believe it’s best we weather the storm under his direction.”

“A storm he knowingly steered us into,” Royce pointed out.

Mr. Scoffield looked pained. His turn was next, although he very much didn’t want it to be. His gaze darted to Macalister and then to Royce, and my heart missed a beat. Was he about to back out?

Macalister’s patience cracked. “Well?”

“I vote no-confidence,” Mr. Scoffield said, reluctance filling his expression.

His boss had expected an explanation and when it didn’t come, irritation smeared across Macalister’s face. “That’s it?”

It was.

“Coward,” Macalister growled.

All gazes turned to Mr. Vanderburgh. He was one of the outsiders—a pioneer in the tech industry who’d made his first billion when his company went public. He was young like Macalister, but he was a maverick. He was known more for being creative and lucky than smart and strategic. I’d thought we’d have been able to convince him, but the car ride in with Macalister had confirmed my suspicion.

Macalister liked the balance Mr. Vanderburgh brought to the table, and Mr. Vanderburgh liked the stability the chairman maintained.

“Transitions are messy and painful,” the man said. “I’m with Powell. Trying to install a new CEO right now is a terrible idea.”

Breath evaporated from my lungs, and my mouth went dry. Macalister had three votes, which meant if Mr. Geffen voted in his favor . . . this was all over. There’d be no point in me voting, and all of this would have been for nothing.

Mr. Geffen was a wild card. Royce hadn’t been able to pin him down with any kind of commitment. My focus darted to my husband and my heart careened down to my stomach. What was I going to do if he lost?

You’ll do whatever you have to.

Royce was the persona he’d spent a lifetime perfecting. Cool, calm, and indifferent. As if everything didn’t hinge on the next words out of Mr. Geffen’s mouth. It was a lie, of course. He had to be thinking the same things I was, about how his father would never let this go. Even if we ran away from the kingdom of HBHC, Macalister would haunt us for the rest of our professional lives. His reach was far. Inescapable.

Mr. Geffen placed his hands on the table and laced his fingers together. He too was from outside the company. A former president of Rosso Media Group, he didn’t have a strong banking background, but he was a tough businessman. He was deep in thought as he stared at polished wood and the reflection of the Boston skyline.

A lifetime passed.

Finally, he lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back like a decision had been made, and every muscle in my body went rigid.