A cold anger washed over me.

They were looking at my children as assets.

They saw Noah and Lila as bargaining chips to keep me in line, to protect the Whitmore legacy.

I looked at Maren.

Her eyes pleaded with me.

She had protected them alone for eight years.

It was my turn to protect them now.

“You think the company is what holds me here,” I said.

I took a step toward them, standing between my family and the two women who wanted to tear it apart.

“You think I care about the board, or the shares, or the family name,” I said.

“Of course you do,” Eleanor said, a faint, mocking smile on her thin lips. “Without Whitmore Capital, you are nothing. You are just a man who walked away from his own blood.”

“Then watch me,” I said.

I tapped the screen of my phone.

I hit send on the draft to my attorney, Arthur Vance.

“What did you just do?” Celeste asked, her eyes narrowing.

“I just instructed Arthur to draft my formal resignation,” I said.

The hallway fell completely silent.