“He left me and our triplets in the hospital to die so he could secure his solo voting rights,” I said.

“He thought I wouldn’t wake up.”

“Now he is trying to take your money and run.”

A murmur of disapproval rippled through the room.

One of the female board members looked at me with genuine pity.

“Is this true, Grant?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Grant snapped.

“She is fabricating a narrative to gain leverage in a divorce settlement.”

He walked down the side of the table toward me, his steps slow and deliberate.

He stopped just two feet away, smelling of mint and expensive leather.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he whispered, low enough that only I could hear.

“I built this company from nothing,” he said.

“You were just along for the ride.”

“Your father built this company,” I corrected him, keeping my voice loud enough for the board.

“You just inherited the keys and forgot how to drive.”

Margaret stepped between us, holding her briefcase like a shield.

“The board has a choice to make,” Margaret announced.