Genevieve

The next morning, the tension in the office between us felt like a live wire. My father was pacing the rug, concluding a meeting with Arthur, Marcus, and two other board members. I stood next to Arthur, leaning over a stack of spreadsheets as the final directives were given.

“The numbers for the April targets are here,” I said, my voice professional and steady.

“Let me see,” Arthur murmured. He didn’t look at the tablet. Instead, he reached out, his hand sliding under the ...