The War Room
Eleanor sat in the corporate boardroom, surrounded by panicked executives. The conglomerate had found a loophole in the shareholder agreements. They were bleeding Sterling dry, manipulating stock prices to force a sale.
The boardroom doors opened, and Victoria walked in. She was still in her factory uniform, her steel-toed boots loud against the polished marble floor. The executives stared in shock.
“Victoria, this is a closed meeting,” James said, standing up.
“Sit down, James,” Eleanor commanded, her eyes fixed on Victoria. “What is it?”
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Victoria walked to the head of the table, standing in the exact spot Eleanor had stood during that fateful dinner party. She pulled out a dog-eared notebook filled with handwritten calculations.
“They’re using a shell company to short the stock while simultaneously pressuring our suppliers,” Victoria explained, her voice steady and authoritative. “But they made a mistake. I’ve been on the floor. I know our production margins better than they do. If we restructure the supply chain directly through the floor managers and issue a special dividend from the emergency reserve, we can price them out of the hostile bid by Friday.”
