anyone?”
“Daniel.”
“Has he smiled?”
“Possibly.
It may have been a facial malfunction.”
Maya leaned closer.
“Do you still think he is hot?”
Sophie pressed the elevator button repeatedly.
“I am no longer discussing that topic near electronic devices.”
The elevator doors opened.
Lucas stood inside.
Maya disappeared without saying goodbye.
Lucas glanced at Sophie.
“A facial malfunction?”
She stepped into the elevator and faced forward.
“This building has acoustical problems.”
“So I have learned.”
On Thursday evening, less than fifteen hours before the board vote, Legal confirmed the file records were authentic.
Daniel had altered the Northstar forecast, deleted Sophie’s warning, and forwarded confidential projections to an outside consulting firm connected to Julian Cross.
The discovery transformed an internal misconduct case into something larger.
Lucas read the report twice.
“Julian knew,” Sophie said.
“He may have encouraged it.”
“Why sabotage your own launch?”
“To force the board vote.” Lucas closed the report.
“Julian has wanted to break Apex into separate companies for years.
The sale would make him richer, but it would destroy the product teams my father built.”
Sophie understood then.
Daniel’s false numbers were never meant to succeed.
They were meant to create a public failure large enough to remove Lucas and justify selling the company in pieces.
“We take this to the board,” she said.
Lucas looked at the clock.
“Legal says the evidence suggests coordination, but it does not yet prove it.”
“Then let Julian expose himself.”
“How?”
Sophie turned the original investor deck toward him.
“We let him believe we are still using Daniel’s numbers.”
The next morning, eleven board members assembled in Apex Meridian’s largest conference room.
Through the glass walls, senior employees watched from the corridor.
Rumors had spread that Lucas would be removed before lunch.
Julian sat at the head of the table with a sealed voting packet beside him.
Daniel was there as well, represented by an attorney.
His suspension had not erased the confidence from his face.
He expected Lucas to fail publicly.
Sophie stood near the presentation screen.
Julian looked at her name card and frowned.
“Why is she here?”
Lucas took the seat opposite him.
“She developed the recovery plan.”
“A junior strategist?”
“The junior strategist whose work your preferred executive stole.”
Daniel’s attorney objected.
Julian ignored him.
“Proceed,” the chairman said.
Lucas began with Daniel’s original projections.
The impossible subscription target appeared on the screen.
Board members exchanged worried looks.
Julian leaned back, satisfied.
“These numbers have already been rejected by two major investors,” he said.
“Unless you have secured new commitments, I see no reason to delay the vote.”
“We secured one this morning,” Lucas replied.
Julian’s expression shifted.
Sophie changed the slide.
The inflated projections disappeared.
In their place was a smaller, verified launch plan based on her original research, supported by signed pilot agreements from fourteen professional firms.
The room came alive with questions.
Lucas answered none of them immediately.
He let Sophie speak.
She explained the new audience, the lower acquisition cost, the redesigned pricing, and the evidence behind every assumption.
No promises.
No theatrical certainty.
Just a plan that could survive contact with reality.
When she finished, board member Elena Park closed her copy of Daniel’s deck.
“This is the first credible Northstar strategy I have seen,” she said.
Another director
