I take one last look at myself in the mirror of the bathroom attached to Oscar’s office. Outwardly, I appear cool, collected. The heir riding in to save the day, to make the waters calm and the winds favorable. The red of my suit speaks of power; bold, bright, demanding your attention. The same way I’m going to be in this meeting.
At least on the outside. On the inside, I’m shaking, hard enough to make my stomach roll. Being in Oscar’s office isn’t helping, but it was the only empty one here. Dad had an office—not the biggest, but a corner one with the best views of the bay—except when he died, the CFO took it over. Maybe that will be my first action as CEO, to take back my father’s office. The CFO can have this one in exchange—Oscar’s office is the biggest. He’ll see it as an upgrade.
First I have to get through this. The rest of me is perfect, but my eyes don’t look right. They’re too… bright. Sparkly. Like I’m holding in the best kind of secret.
That’s all Tynan’s fault. He’s the secret I’m holding in. Memories of last night won’t leave me, sending heat rushing through me at odd moments. Mix that remembered lust with my current nerves and it’s a wonder sparks aren’t shooting out of my eyes.
Nothing I can do about it though. So I leave Oscar’s office and stride into the boardroom like I’m already in charge. I’ve kept my makeup to a minimum, the better to highlight how much I resemble Dad, and I’m even trying to imitate the way he held himself, shoulders square, legs loose, chin up.
Greg Yount actually gasps when I walk in, like he’s seen a ghost. I guess it’s working. The rest of them look grim and sad.
“We’re so sorry about Oscar,” Harold Dawes, the longest-serving member, says. He knew Dad and Oscar from way back when. I wonder if he also knew Liam. If he knew that Dad and Oscar cheated him out of his work.
“It’s been a very difficult time,” I say in a measured tone. I want to sound appropriately serious, but also steady. That I recognize this is a tragedy but that the company needs a firm hand to lead it forward. “Oscar has the best of care, but things… We have to be prepared for the worst. And the company can’t suffer because of this.”
A few of them nod along. Most simply watch me with solemn expressions.
I’m tempted to take a deep breath, wipe my hands on my skirt, but that would be betraying my nerves. I can’t look anything but solid. Stony. You aren’t nervous when you take what’s yours, only when you’re stealing something.
“I’ve been considering the future of the company for a while. This meant more to my father than I can ever tell you all. And because he died so suddenly, he left some things unfinished.”
That catches their attention. I decide to leave it there, bait for them to snap at later.
“Oscar’s condition has made the matter even more urgent.” I fold my hands as if I’m collecting up the company, keeping it safe in my grasp. “I’ve tendered my resignation at Inspiron, and I’m going to assume leadership of this company. Just as my father intended.”
There’s a beat of silence as they all digest that. No one’s openly skeptical, but no one’s acclaiming me either. I sense it could fall either way at this point.
“Is Oscar’s situation that dire?” That’s from Imogen, a board member who only recently joined.
“I’ve spoken with his doctors several times now.” I consider mentioning that Gideon has as well, but that might undermine my own credibility. Like I need Gideon to back me up. “The prognosis isn’t good. If he does wake up—which we are all hoping for—he may have months of rehabilitation to get through. And even then…”
I trail off like it’s too painful to complete that thought. I take a deep breath, clear my throat. They all seem to be buying it.
“I cannot allow my father’s company to falter,” I say. “His legacy is at stake. And it’s my duty to defend it.” My heart pounds as I say it, and I realize I’m not playing a role here. This is my destiny, to continue my father’s work. It’s all I want.
Not all, a tiny voice deep inside says. I ignore it.
“Mmm.” Harold shifts in his chair, sets his chin in his hand. “None of us wants this company to go under.”
He doesn’t say that I’m the one who’s going to save the company from that. In fact, he doesn’t look at all what I would call convinced.
“What was that about your father’s unfinished projects?” he asks.
All right, this is better. I put on a confident, upbeat expression. “He was working on something before he died. Unfortunately, he was collaborating with Tynan, so the project wasn’t continued.” I gesture to my PA, who starts handing out folders to everyone. Paper copies are harder for people to ignore—you can’t simply click away from them.
“It’s a brain-computer interface, but like nothing ever done before. My father actually deciphered the neural encoding of many types of neurons, allowing for the electronic chip to communicate with them in their own language. There’s no need for the neurons to learn to interface with the chip like with other brain-computer interfaces—they already know how.”
My excitement is rising, but that’s okay because this is incredibly exciting. World changing.
“You can see the preliminary data there too.”
They all flip through obediently, even Harold.
“It works. And in probably under a year, we could have clinical trials happening. I will have clinical trials happening. This is it, the thing that will bring the company forward. The next great breakthrough.”
They’re slowly getting it, I can tell. Eyes widening, mouths falling open. They see the potential here and they want it. Badly.
And I’m the one who brought it to them.
Imogen looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “Your father did this all on his own?”
Meaning is there any grip on this the company can grab to shake it loose from my grasp. Or do I own it all as his heir.
“With Tynan’s help,” I say. “None of it is in the company’s archives. No company resources employed.”
I own it, and if you want it, you’ll give this company to me. I don’t have to say it—they all know it.
Harold sighs. “You say Tynan helped him?”
I nod. A frisson of unease moves through me, but he can’t know about Tynan. Tynan’s dead with no heirs as far as Harold knows.
He and Imogen exchange a look. The frisson in me deepens into a fracture.
Imogen pulls her phone out, her expression grim. “There were some pictures released last night. Have you seen them?”
I feel my face go still and stony. Whatever this is, it can’t be good. But I can’t react. “No.” My voice is too steady. “What pictures?”
“It’s all over social media.” Imogen’s cheeks flush as she passes the phone to me. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen.”
Seen what? But I hold my demeanor steady, cool, as I reach for the phone. “I’ve been a little busy,” I say dryly.
“There’s even a hashtag,” Harold says. His brows are drawn together. “Like your ex used to use.”
I’m amazed Harold even knows what a hashtag is. And yes, Axel was a master at them. It was all part of the brand, our personal moments merging with the company, the perfect package to sell our cars.
But I’m not part of that anymore. So what is he talking about?
When I see the pictures on Imogen’s phone, I suck in a sharp breath, although I should have known. I should have known.
The pictures are of the front of the hospital, taken in the middle of the night. The parking lot lights smear the fine details, but there are more than enough left to see that I’m there, walking out of the lobby. I look terrible, the weight of hours upon hours of waiting for news about Oscar pulling down my entire body.
Next to me, his face as clear as day, is Tynan. I’m tagged in the picture, along with Axel and Inspiron. The hashtag #stillalive and #reboundwithaghost are there too, and this thing has gone beyond viral. This is a black plague, killing a third of Europe levels of contagion on it.
And now the entire world knows Tynan is still alive.