Chapter 10 - The Ivory Queen
Eleanor Vance sat in the massive leather chair behind the CEO’s desk. It was 8:00 AM.
The corner office overlooked the same frantic, glittering grid of Manhattan that her penthouse did, but the view from here wasn't an illusion of power. It was the reality of it.
Her assistant—a sharp, brilliant woman in her thirties—knocked on the door. "Ms. Vance? The board is waiting for you in conference room A. The merger is ready for your signature."
"Thank you, Sarah. I'll be right there."
Eleanor stood up. She was wearing the pristine, ivory silk suit once again. It was unblemished. It was her armor, and it was her crown.
She had spent twelve years letting a lesser man believe he was king. She had played the quiet, supportive wife, observing every weakness, learning every secret, and patiently building the gallows.
She walked down the hallway, the heavy mahogany doors of the boardroom opening before her. A dozen men in charcoal and navy suits stood up in immediate, deferential respect as she entered.
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Eleanor didn't smile. She didn't need to.
She sat at the head of the table, placing her hands on the cool glass. The board was cleared. The pieces were reset. And the new game belonged entirely to her.
