His tie was loosened, and his hair was damp from the rain.

He stopped when he saw me standing outside the boardroom doors.

His eyes went to my stomach, then up to my face.

He walked toward me, his leather shoes clicking on the marble border of the carpet.

“What are you doing here, Avery?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“This is my building.”

“Not for much longer,” I said.

He reached for the brass handle of the boardroom door, but I stood in front of it.

“They are voting, Callum,” I said.

“You can’t go in there.”

He stepped closer, his face inches from mine.

I could smell the stale coffee on his breath.

“I built this company,” he whispered.

“My father gave it to me.”

“Your father gave you a legacy of lies, and you perfected it,” I said.

Before he could answer, the heavy wooden doors of the boardroom clicked.

They swung inward.

Diane Vance, the oldest member of the board, stood in the doorway.

She looked at Callum, her face cold and empty of any warmth.