Inside, the lobby was silent and warm, smelling of expensive wax and coffee.

A security guard in a crisp black uniform stopped me at the desk.

“Evelyn Higgins,” I said. “Paul Raskin is expecting me.”

He checked his computer screen, then tapped a badge against the scanner.

“Floor forty-two,” he said, handing me a plastic pass.

The elevator ride was fast enough to make my ears pop.

The doors opened onto a hallway carpeted in deep, quiet gray.

Paul Raskin was waiting for me, his tie slightly crooked.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, taking my wet coat.

“Where is Ethan?” I asked.

“In there,” Paul said, pointing to a pair of double oak doors at the end of the hall.

Through the frosted glass, I could see the outlines of several people.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“Vance has three-quarters of the board on his side,” Paul said.

“What is he telling them?” I asked.

“That Ethan is using corporate resources to settle a domestic dispute,” Paul said.

“He’s saying the eviction was a staged event to extort the company,” Paul added.