“…and so, as we merge Whitmore Holdings with Bellamy Tech, we are not just building a conglomerate. We are building a family,” Grant announced, raising his glass. The room erupted in polite applause.
Tessa leaned her head on my shoulder. “Smile, darling,” she whispered.
I stepped up to the microphone. “Grant is right,” I said, my voice booming through the speakers. The room quieted. “Family requires sacrifice. It requires giving up pieces of yourself to ensure the survival of the bloodline. Isn’t that right, Grant?”
Grant’s smile faltered by a millimeter. Tessa stiffened beside me.
Behind my back, I pressed a button on my phone. Maren, hidden in the AV control room above the balcony, executed the override.
The massive digital screens behind the dais, meant to display our new corporate logo, suddenly flickered. They went black, then blazed to life with Carl Denning’s surveillance files.
Gasps rippled through the ballroom.
