I roll my shoulders as I make my way to the company auditorium. Shareholder meetings are always nerve-racking. Although I’m the CEO, the shareholders are the owners. They’ve always been a difficult bunch to deal with. Even Grandfather struggled from time to time.
I’m in my absolute best outfit—a conservative black Dior and nude stilettos. Sapphires and diamonds on my ears, neck and wrist. My hair’s up in a French twist, and I maintain my most confident posture—shoulders back, spine straight, feet even and chin up.
Grandfather always said a Peery does not bow his—or her—head.
I’ve gone over my remarks twenty times with Karen’s assistance. Sebastian listened to it after he came home and helped me tweak it some more. I’ve never been more ready.
Still, when I’m in front of everyone, my legs grow nerveless. My suitability as CEO is the last item on the agenda, immediately after welcoming Sebastian as a new member of the board, so my nerves are stretched taut.
I lock my knees and paste a neutral friendliness on my face. Thankfully, I say all the right words confidently, without a single stumble. From the approving smile on Sebastian’s face, I know I’m doing well.
A short Q&A later, I’m back in my seat. I look down at my phone.
–Sebastian: Amazing job!
–Karen: You did well.
I smile with relief. If they’re saying this, I didn’t just do the best that I could. I objectively did well, on par with other executives.
I maintain my calm. It’s going to be fine. The talk about my suitability started to become more serious in the last few weeks because I kicked Roderick out of the company, and he’s stirred it up to fever pitch because he has to make a case in order to continue leeching off Peery Diamonds. He’s probably dying to come back as a “consultant.” He needs money more than ever before, and I wouldn’t be shocked to find some backdoor dealings between him and Darren. Or even somebody on our BOD.
But as the board and everyone present have their discussions and the votes are tallied, the numbers are very, very tight. How can Roderick have so many behind him?
Karen whispers something to Darren, and he looks at me with a smirk. My stomach tight, I ignore him and look at Sebastian. He’s tapping away on his phone with a frown. Maybe he hasn’t seen the tally yet. Some emergency could’ve happened at Sebastian Jewelry.
Or maybe he knows the final tally will come out in my favor. I don’t need a convincing victory. Just enough to hang in there so I can prove myself.
My fingers grow cold, my palms clammy. I clench my hands together, then realize what I’m doing and force myself to hold them loosely on my lap.
But my composure is crumbling inside as the seconds tick by. My gut says something’s not right. It’s the weird charge in the atmosphere, like the eerie silence before a terrible storm hits.
The announcement is made:
I’m out.
By less than one percent of the vote.
The number doesn’t change after a recount.
I sit, dazed and trying to process. Just because I’m a Peery doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed a leadership position, but…this…
This will be the first time somebody other than a Peery will be the CEO. Shivers run through me, and I realize I’m cold. I doubt I’ll continue to sit on the board. They appoint Karen as the interim CEO.
That’s good, at least, I think numbly. She’s a great executive. Peery Diamonds is in good hands. I should be relieved, I tell myself through the emotional fog.
Darren shoots me a quick, condescending grin. “Ah well.” He walks past me. He knows it would make him look like a dick to rub it in. He’ll want to do that in private.
“I’m sorry,” Karen says somberly.
I manage to thank her and stand shakily, looking for Sebastian. He’s talking with some of the board members. Roderick approaches him with a broad grin. Sebastian’s expression darkens. He tilts his head as though he can sense me watching him.
I start toward him.
“We couldn’t have done it without your brothers’ help.” Roderick is exuberant.
“Shut up,” Sebastian responds.
Roderick is too drunk with victory to listen. “I knew they’d vote wisely.”
I look at Sebastian. Guilt flashes across his face.
And I know.
He has six brothers. All wealthy, all capable of grabbing enough shares to challenge my leadership. He made it clear that he hated my maneuvering to get him to marry me. Obviously, this was his way of balancing those scales he so loves to even.
But if that’s what he wanted, why did he have to be kind? Why did he have to make me think he cared? Why did he have to make me want more?
I look at the broad shoulders I laid my head on. The gorgeous eyes that shone when he looked at me. The beautiful mouth that kissed me like I was everything he ever dreamed of.
Of all the betrayals of my life, his is the hatchet that cleaves my soul. The pain robs my lungs of air, my mind of words.
I glance down at myself. I’m not bleeding. I don’t know how I can look fine, my clothes perfect, my posture erect, when the most unbearable agony is tearing at me. If my physical self could reflect what’s happening inside, I’d be lying, burnt and flayed, on a bed of razor blades.
I look around. The ambient chatter grows muffled. Faces blur. Nobody seems horrified. Nobody is shocked. I should be grateful the damage is invisible to their eyes.
People will never discover the devastation Sebastian has wrought. No archeologist will unearth it a century from now. And I can pretend I’m untouched by it all. I still hold a great deal of shares. And I have money of my own, independent of Peery Diamonds.
I’ll be fine. I have to be fine.
But I feel something draining from me, like sand flowing out of a broken hourglass. I can’t remember why I struggled so hard, why I even bothered to come to this meeting.
The lights above hit my Toi et Moi ring and fracture into gorgeous slivers all the colors of creation. Why did I marry Sebastian again?
Suddenly, everything feels like too much. It’s all I can do to remain upright.
Someone starts moving toward me—Sebastian, maybe. But some people get in the way. They’re saying something to him.
I turn around. I have no feeling in my limbs, but they move, allow me to leave without stumbling. The auditorium is freezing, but the hall is even colder. I walk right past everyone, my strides growing longer and longer.
I rush out of the lobby. The bright blade of the sun slices into my eyes.
“Ma’am,” comes James’s voice. He touches my hand. “You’re freezing.”
“No, you’re feverish,” I say numbly, then climb into the car.
“Let’s turn the heater on,” he says.
“Don’t.” I don’t want to be thawed.
