Chapter 8 The Boardroom Blitz

The dining table in the Kronos suite wasn't really a dining table anymore. It was a battlefield disguised as mahogany, and the three board members arrayed on the far side looked like generals about to choose sides.

Reinhardt sat at the center, a man whose silver hair and heavy watch screamed old-world money. On his right, Katerina with her immaculate bun and icy poise, a humanitarian mask over a sharp business mind. Gruber sprawled on the left like a lion at rest, his cufflinks catching the light. He loved being courted.

Damian sat at the head of the table, not quite relaxed, but in control of his space. I sat at his right, a folder open in front of me though I already knew every number inside.

"Thank you for joining us," Damian began. His voice was velvet over steel. "We're here because Victor Lang has been busy."

Reinhardt's eyes flickered. "Lang says he can stabilize the merger. He says he has regulators lined up."

"Lang says a lot of things," Damian said evenly. "Half of them are true. The other half cost people their companies."

Katerina arched an eyebrow. "And you're different?"

"Different enough to be sitting here with Ms. Grant instead of trying to swallow her company whole," Damian said.

The way he said it - calm, deliberate - sent a ripple through the room. They weren't used to Damian Cross showing his cards.

I leaned forward slightly. "GreenSphere wasn't built to be a trophy. It was built to solve problems. This merger only works if that mission stays intact. Lang's offer ends that mission."

Gruber chuckled, a low rumble. "And you're what? The conscience of this little deal?"

I met his eyes without flinching. "I'm the future of it."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Katerina tapped a manicured finger on the table. "Lang promised to protect GreenSphere's patents. You're saying he won't?"

"I'm saying he'll bury them in shell companies and licensing labyrinths until they're no longer GreenSphere's at all," I said. "And you know it."

Her eyes narrowed. Score one.

Damian slid a packet of papers across the table. "Lang's offshore movements over the last six months," he said. "He's been preparing this play longer than you think. If you back him, you're not stabilizing the merger. You're handing it to him."

Reinhardt flipped through the papers, his face tightening.

Gruber leaned back. "Even if that's true, the market likes him. The regulators like him. Investors like him."

"Investors like winning," Damian said softly. "And we're going to win."

"How?" Gruber asked.

Damian glanced at me. "Elena?"

My pulse skipped. This was my cue.

I stood slowly, palms flat on the table. "Because GreenSphere's next innovation - Project Helios - is about to go public. It's bigger than anything we've done before. Solar tech that's scalable, cheap, and patent-protected in three continents. The only way Lang can touch it is if we let him."

Gruber's eyebrows rose. "Helios isn't public."

"It is now," I said. "And if you back Lang, you'll be on the wrong side of the launch."

A long silence followed. I could feel Damian watching me, not intervening, letting me own the room.

Reinhardt cleared his throat. "This... changes the equation."

Katerina tapped her fingers again, slower this time. "You'd make this public without Lang?"

"Absolutely," I said. "I'd rather go down fighting than watch him cannibalize my company."

Gruber smiled faintly. "She's got teeth."

"Teeth aren't enough," Katerina said. "You'll need funding. Infrastructure. Political cover."

"We have all three," Damian said. "And you'll get your dividends. Bigger than Lang can promise."

Reinhardt leaned back, expression calculating. "You're asking us to choose a side."

"I'm asking you to choose the winning side," Damian said.

The three exchanged glances. I held my breath.

Finally Reinhardt closed the folder. "I'll think about it."

"Think fast," Damian said. "Lang's moving tonight."

They rose, one by one, offering polite nods. Gruber gave me a slow smile as he left. "You're impressive, Ms. Grant. Don't get eaten alive."

When the door closed behind them, my knees went weak. I sat back down hard, exhaling.

Damian's eyes were on me. "You were extraordinary," he said quietly.

"I was terrified," I admitted.

"Good," he said. "Terror keeps you sharp."

I shot him a look. "You're impossible."

He smiled slightly. "And yet here we are."

I leaned forward. "Do you think it worked?"

"They're not fools," he said. "They saw what Lang is. But he won't take this lying down."

"What's next?"

"We wait," he said. "And we get ready."

He stood and poured two glasses of wine from the decanter on the sideboard. He handed one to me. "To surviving our first battle together," he said.

I hesitated, then clinked his glass. "To surviving."

We drank. The wine was rich, dark, a little dangerous. Like him.

I set my glass down. "Damian..."

He looked at me.

"I can't keep doing this if you keep using me as a pawn," I said. "If we're really partners, I need to know it."

For a moment, his expression softened. "You're not a pawn," he said. "You're the queen."

The way he said it made my chest tighten.

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his face went still. "Lang's moving faster than I thought. He's called a press conference for tomorrow morning."

My stomach sank. "What kind of press conference?"

"An ambush," he said. "He's going to accuse us of collusion and regulatory fraud."

I stared at him. "That could kill the merger."

"Yes," he said. "Unless we kill his narrative first."

The city glittered below the windows, cold and bright. I felt the walls of the game closing in again, tighter, sharper.

"I'm not losing this company," I said softly.

Damian set his glass down and stepped closer, just enough that I could feel the heat of him. "Then don't," he said. "Stand with me, and we'll burn him down."

Something in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. For a heartbeat, I forgot the board, forgot Lang, forgot everything but the man standing in front of me, eyes like steel and fire.

And then I stepped back, forcing air into my lungs. "I need to think," I said.

He nodded once. "Do that. But think fast."

As he left the suite, the door closing softly behind him, I went back to the window. Zurich glittered like a thousand tiny stakes on a chessboard.

Lang was moving his pieces. Damian was moving his.

And now it was my turn.