Chapter 4 - The Ruin of a Matriarch
Vivian didn't break. She slowly closed her leather notebook, her gaze fixed entirely on Claire with a hatred so pure it felt physical.
"You think you've won something, Claire?" Vivian whispered, ignoring the shocked whispers of the board members around her. "Ethan was weak. He was willing to let this company slide into mediocrity. I did what was necessary to ensure the Whitmore legacy remained under controlled, competent leadership. A child born to a middle-class nurse would have diluted our voting block for the next thirty years."
"Controlled leadership?" Ethan stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow over his mother. "You forged a medical document to make me believe I was broken, Mother. You let me drown in shame for months, watching my marriage fall apart, just so you could steal my shares before the merger. You didn't care about the legacy. You only cared about the control."
"Ethan, be realistic," Vivian snapped, her voice finally cracking with desperation. "Without me, this company wouldn't exist! I protected you!"
"You're done, Mother," Ethan said, his voice flat and absolute. He turned to the board. "I am calling for an immediate vote to remove Vivian Whitmore from the executive chair, effective immediately, pending a full criminal investigation into corporate fraud and medical document forgery."
Grant Whitmore was the first to raise his hand. He didn't look at his mother; he looked down at the table, his face pale. "I vote yes."
Within thirty seconds, eleven hands were in the air. Only Dr. Avery remained seated, his hands shaking so badly he dropped his pen.
"Get out of my building, Vivian," Ethan said quietly.
Vivian stood up, her posture still rigid, though her fingers were clawing into her handbag so tightly the leather groaned. She looked at Ethan, then at Claire's belly, before turning on her heel and marching out of the boardroom, Dr. Avery scurrying like a frightened mouse behind her.
As the heavy doors closed, Ethan slumped back into his chair, the adrenaline leaving his body, leaving him looking exhausted. He looked over at Claire, his hand tentatively moving across the table until his fingers brushed against hers.
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"Claire..." he whispered, his voice thick with a raw, bleeding regret.
"Not here, Ethan," she said softly, gently pulling her hand back. "We still have one more test result to wait for."
