Early in the morning, and the Bailey Group's top-floor conference room was already alive with chatter.
Declan had the audacity to claim the CEO's chair—the seat that rightfully belonged to Harold. Worse still, he'd dragged in an extra chair for Toby, positioning him like some kind of co-conspirator.
The other shareholders sat around that massive table, trading silent glances at the shameless display.
In their minds, they'd already crossed Harold's name off the CEO list.
What really ate at them wasn't whether Harold belonged to the Bailey bloodline—it was who'd grab the CEO throne next.
Under Harold's reign, the Bailey Group had become his personal empire. These shareholders had grown soft, skipping meetings and just waiting for their yearly payouts.
Sure, collecting easy money felt nice, but the hollow feeling eventually crept in.
Many suspected Harold might sell them all down the river someday.
