“We have a board meeting at eight tomorrow morning, Graham,” Elliot said.

His voice was quiet, but it carried a chilling authority.

Graham looked at him, his mouth slightly open.

“Elliot, we can handle this internally,” Graham pleaded.

“We can restructure.”

“There is no ‘we’ right now,” Elliot said.

He looked at the papers again, his face hardening.

“We need to protect the firm’s reputation before the market opens.”

He turned his gaze back to me, his expression cautious.

“Arden,” Elliot said.

“If we take immediate action, can we discuss a forbearance on the debt?”

“That depends on what happens in the next five minutes,” I said.

I watched my husband, waiting for the final piece of his composure to shatter.

Graham’s phone began to ring again, the screen lighting up the dark fabric of his pocket once more.

This time, the ringtone echoed through the silent hallway.

He didn’t reach for it.

His eyes were fixed on the blue papers in Elliot’s hands.

The power had shifted, and everyone in the room knew it.

“There are procedures we have to follow,” Elliot said, his voice tightening.