“The brand must come first, Bennett,” Celeste said, her voice smooth and devoid of emotion.

“I cannot allow my personal associations to ruin my professional standing.”

She stood up, picking up her leather bag, and walked toward the exit without looking back.

“You are finished, Bennett,” I said, my voice calm and steady.

“The board will now vote on the appointment of an interim receiver to oversee the transition.”

Bennett’s lawyer pulled him back into his seat, whispering urgently in his ear.

“We need to leave now, Bennett,” the lawyer muttered.

“The federal marshals are downstairs in the lobby.”

Bennett looked around the room, realizing for the first time that he was entirely alone.

His face crumbled, the arrogance stripping away to reveal a desperate, aging man.

He stood up slowly, his knees shaking, and let his lawyer guide him toward the service exit.

The board members watched him go in silence, the heavy silence of an empire collapsing.

Arthur Vance turned to me, his expression softening.

“Evelyn, the brand is in ruins,” he said.

“We need to discuss the next steps for the company.”