A sharp intake of breath echoed from the tables near the stage.

“Effective immediately, Grant Whitmore is removed from the board of directors,” Caleb said.

“He no longer represents this project, this brand, or this property.”

Grant lunged forward, grabbing the microphone off its stand with a harsh screech of feedback.

“You can’t do this! I am Whitmore Development!”

“You are a liability,” Caleb said quietly, turning to walk back to his seat.

“And as of this moment, Vivian is the sole designated design director and consultant for the Harbor Point project.”

“The funding remains intact, and the construction will proceed under her direct supervision.”

The room erupted into a flurry of camera flashes and whispered conversations.

I looked down at Grant, who was staring at Caleb’s back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

His hands were trembling so violently he had to set the microphone back on the podium to keep from dropping it.

Behind him, Lila Monroe looked as though she had been struck.

Her carefully styled blonde hair seemed suddenly disheveled, and her eyes wide with a cold, sharp panic.