8:00 p.m.


    Xavier arrived right on time to pick Vivian up. He brought flowers-not roses, but a simple bouquet of lilies.


    "I noticed your vase was empty, so I thought I''d bring you some," he said, handing them to her.


    Eleanor saw he''d already made the gesture and couldn''t refuse, so she took the bouquet and arranged the flowers at home.


    The weekend slipped by in a blink.


    Monday.


    Goodwin & Co. Headquarters.


    A hastily arranged board meeting was underway.


    Several senior shareholders whispered among themselves, while at the side of the chairman''s seat sat a middle-aged man, his expression stern. This was Marcus, current Executive Vice President of Goodwin & Co.


    At that moment,n entered, dressed in a sharp ck suit, exuding amanding presence as he strode directly to the head of the table.


    Marcus cleared his throat and spoke first. "Mr. Goodwin, it''s not that we doubt your abilities. But the investment in the neural interface project is enormous, and we don''t see any short-term returns. All the shareholders want to see thepany move forward on steadier ground."


    Jacques,n''s uncle, spoke up, taking the lead. "Ian, we insist on forming an oversightmittee. This is a unanimous decision after much discussion among the shareholders."


    "That''s right,n. It''s not that we don''t trust you-we have every confidence in your abilities. But too often, decisions seem to be made unterally, and we feel left in the dark," another veteran shareholder added.


    n, the board has every right to raise objections-unless you can get Meridian Dynamics to deliver a detailed three-year development n for the neural interface project. We need to see precise data, from technical milestones to profitability forecasts," Jacques pressed.


    "Mr. Goodwin, all the shareholders want is a n for the next three years. Show us some tangible progress, and we can talk about further funding," Marcus added coolly.


    Marcus, knowingn all too well, recognized the warning signs. He forced augh. "Of course not. Your judgment has always been impable."


    But the other shareholders looked anything but amused. They''de prepared this time, united in their demand for a n-because, for the first time, they truly felt threatened.


    n, it''s not about trust. Last time you pulled the plug on Medisys Group''s IPO, and now you''re pouring resources into the neural interface project. Don''t we, as shareholders, have a right to speak up?"


    "That''s right! It''s our money on the line, too. Why shouldn''t we have a say?" an elderly shareholder huffed.


    After a tense silence, Marcus finally said, "Let''s give Mr. Goodwin a few days. That''s all for today, everyone."


    "Mr. Goodwin-" Gavin ventured hesitantly.


    "I need a minute,"n said, his tone low.


    Gavin got the hint and quietly closed the door behind him.


    Ten minutester, Gavin''s office phone rang. Ian''s voice was steady this time. "Apany me to Meridian Dynamics."


    Gavin grabbed his car keys and hurried to wait by the office door.


    Soon, Gavin was driving them swiftly toward Meridian Dynamics. Ian sat in the back, fingers drumming absently on his knee, deep in thought.


    Meridian Dynamics shimmered under the afternoon sun, its futuristic architecture gleaming like a crouched metal lion.


    Eleanor was in her office, sorting through paperwork, when Byron''s assistant knocked. "Eleanor, Mr. Chase would like you in Conference Room Three."


    Eleanor frowned. "A meeting?"


    "Yes."


    She grabbed her phone and headed down the hall. As she reached the door, Byron himself stepped out to greet her.


    "Eleanor, d you''re here. Come on in-Mr. Goodwin is waiting."


    Eleanor''s brows knitted together. She entered to findn at the head of the table, sifting through papers.


    "Dr. Sutton, please have a seat,"n said, all business.


    Byron sat, his face equally serious.


    No sooner had Eleanor settled in thann looked up. "My shareholders are collectively protesting the neural interface project investment. Dr. Sutton, I need your help."


    Eleanor stared him down. "Help with what?"


    "I need you to draft a three-year n for the project. The board is demanding a detailed proposal." He paused, then added, "I want you to prove to them that this project is worth it."


    Eleanor gave a coldugh. "And why, exactly, should I do that?"


    "Because only you can save me,”n replied, his voice low and steady.


    Eleanor stood suddenly, both hands braced against the table as she leaned over him. “Listen,n. I''m not your secretary-and I''m certainly not your savior. The shareholders'' dissatisfaction is your mess to clean up."


    She started to leave, then tossed back over her shoulder, "And if the dayes when they vote to kick you off the board, you can count on my support."


    That''s right-Eleanor was also a Goodwin & Co. shareholder. She''d received the meeting notice the night before and declined to attend.


    Byron was openly sweating, ncing at Eleanor in disbelief. He''d heard rumors of shareholder unrest, but seeing it y out like this was another matter.


    "Clean up your own mess," Eleanor said, walking out without a backward nce. Byron wiped his brow. "Mr. Goodwin, should I try to talk to Eleanor?"


    "No need,”n said, rising and adjusting his cufflinks with deliberate calm. "She won''t help me."


    "What about the board?"


    "I''ll handle it myself."n''s eyes darkened as he walked out.