Chapter 4: The three board members

By ten in the morning, the formal notice had been delivered to every board member, every major shareholder, and every lawyer attached to Voss Capital.

By ten fifteen, the corporate world was panicking.

Good.

I sat in Zara Monteiro’s office watching the chaos unfold through emails, calls, and increasingly frantic messages from people who had spent the last three months assuming I was already defeated.

Apparently discovering that your victim is still alive and legally capable of destroying your takeover strategy was upsetting for people.

Who knew?

I opened another email.

Then another.

Then paused at the incoming caller ID flashing across my phone.

DIRK LOUW.

Board member number one.

He wore corruption and greedy like a crown.

And according to the novel, one of the first people to betray Zara publicly during Friday’s shareholder meeting.

I answered.

“Mr. Louw.”

“Zara,” he said smoothly, sounding far too calm. “I think perhaps we should meet.”

Translation: he was panicking and wanted to figure out how much damage control was possible.

“Lunch,” I said. “One hour.”

“Of course.”

I hung up.

Then immediately called board member number two.

Annika Steyn.

Unlike Dirk, Annika wasn’t corrupt.

Which honestly made her more dangerous.

She genuinely believed supporting Voss was the responsible decision.

The kind of person who destroyed your life while thinking she was helping.

“Miss Monteiro,” she answered cautiously.

“Coffee,” I said. “Three o’clock.”

A pause.

“…All right.”

Then came Bernard Mokoena.

Board member number three.

Sharp. Efficient. Completely uninterested in emotional manipulation.

He picked up on the second ring.

“You’ve caused a market disturbance,” he said without greeting.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence.

Then, unexpectedly: A quiet snort.

Interesting.

“I assume the veto clause is legitimate?”

“Very.”

“Then Voss cannot remove you.”

“Correct.”

“Which means this entire situation has suddenly become expensive for him.”

“Also correct.”

Another pause.

Then Bernard said, “Good. I dislike people who act certain before they’ve actually won.”

And hung up.

I stared at the phone.

Well.

That had gone better than expected.

—

Lunch with Dirk took place at a restaurant so expensive the menus didn’t have prices written on them.

Which told me everything I needed to know about Dirk as a human being.

He smiled when I sat down across from him.

The smile did not reach his eyes.

“Zara,” he said warmly. “You’re looking well.”

“I was almost murdered last night, Dirk. Let’s skip the fake pleasantries.”

His expression froze.

Good.

“Excuse me?”

I leaned back in my chair.

“You heard me.”

For half a second, real fear flickered across his face before disappearing behind practiced professionalism.

Interesting.

So he knew something.

Maybe not details.

But enough.

“I think you’re under a great deal of stress,” he said carefully.

“I think Voss Capital promised your consulting firm a very generous contract in exchange for your board support.”

Silence.

Dirk’s face tightened.

“That’s a serious accusation.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you can prove it.”

I smiled slightly.

“So do I.”

A translucent screen flashed briefly in the corner of my vision.

ACTIVE PLOT EVENT:
DIRK LOUW INTENDS TO DENY INVOLVEMENT AND LEAVE.

I almost laughed.

This ability was absurd.

I focused on one word.

Deny.

And changed it.

Confess.

The screen vanished.

Dirk inhaled sharply.

Then his mouth opened.

And absolute nonsense started pouring out.

“Yes, all right, Voss offered the contract but technically it wasn’t bribery because—”

His eyes widened.

He stopped speaking abruptly.

Horror crossed his face.

Then he started talking again.

About payment structures.

Private meetings.

Share transfers.

Illegal communications.

Every single word calmly recorded by the phone sitting beside my water glass.

Dirk looked like a man trapped inside his own body.

Honestly?

A little terrifying.

Also deeply satisfying.

Eight minutes later, he finally stopped talking.

Sweat covered his forehead.

I picked up my phone.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” I said pleasantly.

Dirk stared at me like I was possessed.

Fair enough.

“I…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t understand what just happened.”

“Neither do I,” I lied smoothly.

Then I stood.

“Oh, and Dirk?”

He looked up weakly.

“You should probably hire a lawyer.”

I left him sitting there looking seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

—

Coffee with Annika was infinitely less entertaining.

Unfortunately, Annika Steyn was a fundamentally decent person.

Which meant I actually had to work for this one.

She sat across from me in a quiet café, composed and elegant in a navy suit.

“You’ve caused quite a stir today,” she said.

“That was intentional.”

“I imagine.”

Unlike Dirk, she looked tired rather than frightened.

Because Annika genuinely thought removing Zara had been necessary for the company’s survival.

Not greed.

Not malice.

Just misplaced trust.

I slid two folders across the table.

She frowned.

“What’s this?”

“The first folder contains Monteiro Industries’ financial performance under my leadership.”

She opened it.

Revenue growth.

International expansion.

Employee retention increases.

Profit margins.

The company was thriving.

Annika’s brows slowly furrowed.

Then I slid the second folder toward her.

“That one contains acquisition histories from Voss Capital.”

She opened it.

And her expression changed.

Layoffs.

Asset stripping.

Forced restructuring.

Collapsed pension agreements.

Entire divisions sold off within months of acquisition.

By the time she finished reading, she looked sick.

“That can’t all be accurate.”

“It is.”

She stared silently at the papers.

Then finally whispered:

“Why didn’t anyone show me this before?”

Because the original Zara had spent most of the novel crying instead of fighting back.

But I kept that thought to myself.

“Because nobody thought they needed to,” I said quietly.

Annika looked up slowly.

And for the first time since entering the café, she no longer looked certain.

Good.

Doubt was the beginning of change.

—

By the time I returned to the office that evening, one board member had confessed to corruption, another was reconsidering her alliance, and Bernard Mokoena had already publicly withdrawn his support for Voss Capital.

Which meant Stellan Voss had just lost his majority.

The city lights glittered outside the office windows as I loosened my jacket and sat behind the desk.

For the first time since arriving in this world, I allowed myself a slow breath.

Progress.

Then my office doors opened.

No knock.

No warning.

And a man stepped inside like he owned the building.

Tall.

Dark suit.

Cold silver eyes.

Controlled in the terrifying way sharp blades were controlled.

Stellan Voss.

Ah.

There he was.