Chapter 288

The boardroom was silent except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on me, each one calculating, suspicious, or quietly resentful. The long mahogany table gleamed under the overhead lights. I sat at the head, as I always did, my right hand resting casually on the arm of the chair, though the bandages beneath my sleeve still itched and ached with every pulse. One of the older men cleared his throat. His name was Laurent too, though barely anyone outside the family remembered his exact connection. Second cousin once removed, perhaps. He was nearing seventy, with a heavy jaw and an air of self-importance. "Ashton," he began, his tone deliberately paternal. "No one here doubts your capabilities, but you've been through an ordeal. Stranded on an island, injured, feverish. Surely you must admit you need rest. Perhaps it would be wise to step back for a time. Let others shoulder the burden until you recover." Several others nodded. Murmurs of agreement r