Damon's POV
"Mr. Westin, your presence is requested immediately in the boardroom."
Godson's voice crackled through my earpiece as I stepped off the elevator, still riding adrenaline from this morning's press conference. I'd just exposed Celeste's forgeries and bribery—yet here I was, summoned again.
My stomach clenched. What now?
I squared my shoulders and strode down the hallway, each polished tile echoing my resolve. Westin Tower's executive floor was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos I'd left behind. At the heavy oak doors of the boardroom, I paused—took a breath—and entered.
The boardroom was thick with tension. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them, turning the skyline into a watercolor of grey. Wicker chairs circled a massive mahogany table.
At the head sat Marcus Westin—my father—his expression stony. Beside him, four board members shifted uneasily. Celeste lingered at the back, arms folded, eyes shining with triumph.
