The elevator ride felt longer than it should have.
Not because of the height — Moreau Corp's boardroom sat only on the twenty-sixth floor, modest by Lyon's towering standards — but because silence had weight in tight spaces. And right now, it wrapped around Aria like a second coat.
Noel stood beside her, hands folded calmly in front of him, gaze forward. He hadn't said a word since the lobby.
She didn't expect him to.
This wasn't the moment for comfort.
It was the moment before the strike.
The doors opened with a soft chime.
Cool air greeted them — air-conditioned, purified, still faintly tinged with the cologne of men who thought themselves invincible.
The boardroom stretched ahead, glass walls framing the stormy skyline.
A long obsidian table ran through the center like a blade.
At the far end, in Vincent's old seat, the acting chairman — Claude Feray, an old-school loyalist from Vincent's earlier years — cleared his throat.
Twelve board members lined the table.
Two lawyers.
A silent assistant recording minutes.
Aria stepped inside, heels clicking once—then silence.
Every pair of eyes turned.
Juliet, sitting with one leg primly crossed over the other, gave a sugary smile that didn't touch her eyes.
Selene didn't look up from her phone.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, smirk just a breath away from open mockery.
And beside him, watching from the corner like a sculpted statue in mourning black, sat Isabelle Moreau.
She had no vote.
But her presence weighed just as much as any number on the board.
Aria walked to her seat.
Didn't rush.
Didn't hesitate.
The chair reserved for the CEO sat halfway down the table, near the head but not at it. Symbolic, not absolute. Not yet.
She sat.
Placed the folder labeled PROJECT LION neatly on the desk before her.
Didn't open it.
Not yet.
Claude coughed again. "Shall we begin?"
No one objected.
"We're gathered here under the emergency provision," he said, his voice gravel laced with weariness, "to discuss the current structure and leadership of Moreau Corp in light of recent transitions."
The word death was carefully avoided.
"Given Miss Moreau's unexpected inheritance of controlling interest," Claude went on, "several board members have raised concerns regarding—"
"Competence," Lucas cut in smoothly. "Experience. Reputation."
"Legacy," Selene added, still scrolling.
Aria said nothing.
"Moreau Corp is too large to be an experiment," another man said — Duval, mid-fifties, logistics arm. "Our partners are already nervous. This isn't personal, Miss Moreau—"
"It always is," Aria murmured, eyes still forward.
Duval blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"You said it isn't personal."
She looked at him now. Calm. Dry. Surgical.
"But it always is. I just want you to admit it."
Silence.
Claude glanced around, clearly uncomfortable.
Juliet leaned forward slightly, her tone falsely curious. "No offense, Aria, but you only started showing up in corporate affairs what… two days ago?"
Selene smirked. "And already we're having emergency meetings."
Aria glanced at them both. "You're right."
Juliet blinked. That wasn't the response she'd expected.
"I did arrive two days ago," Aria said quietly. "And yet in that time, I've already stopped one act of corporate fraud, secured documentation that implicates a board member, and discovered a money trail leading through three shell companies in Luxembourg."
She placed the folder in the center of the table.
The words burned like a brand across the front.
PROJECT LION — EMERGENCY TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION
Lucas shifted.
Selene sat upright.
Claude stared down at the folder, frowning. "What's this?"
"Proof," Aria replied. "That someone sitting at this table began gutting Moreau Corp days before Vincent Moreau's body was even cold."
Juliet looked between them all, panicked. "That's ridiculous. No one—"
"Save the outrage," Aria cut in. "You'll only embarrass yourself if you defend the wrong person."
She opened the folder, removed the single transfer document, and held it up.
"Signed authorization for subsidiary liquidation. Unauthorized routing of corporate funds. Issued from Lucas Moreau's secondary clearance code."
Gasps broke through the table like small detonations.
"Forgery," Lucas said instantly. "She's bluffing."
"Forgery?" Aria echoed, tilting her head. "Would you like to test that theory? I've already forwarded it to legal and compliance. We can verify the authorization against your biometric keychain by noon."
Claude raised a hand. "Let's… all breathe. This is serious."
"It's fabricated," Lucas said again, standing. "This is clearly an attempt to discredit me—"
"No," Aria said, voice sharp now, cold as steel against bone. "You did that yourself."
Lucas's chair scraped loudly as he stepped back, color draining from his face.
Selene's eyes were narrowed now — thoughtful, but silent.
Juliet had gone pale.
Isabelle sat without a word, watching Aria like she was watching a chessboard light up.
Claude sighed, massaging his temple.
"I believe," he said after a long pause, "this new development requires thorough investigation."
"You're postponing the vote?" Selene asked, tone incredulous.
"For now," Claude said firmly. "Forty-eight hours. We reconvene with full documentation."
Lucas snapped his folder closed and stormed toward the door without another word.
His footsteps echoed, and then he was gone.
The room stayed silent for a moment longer.
Then Claude looked at Aria.
"Miss Moreau, we'll expect a full report."
"You'll have it," she replied, already gathering her things.
The folder clicked shut.
She stood, nodding once toward the board.
Then toward Isabelle.
Then she walked out.
In the corridor, Noel stepped forward to match her pace.
He said nothing.
But when they entered the elevator, and the doors began to close, he asked quietly:
"Was that the only copy of the transfer order?"
"No," Aria said.
And for the first time since Vincent died—
She smiled.