Chapter 9 - Monday’s Decision
On Monday morning, Nicholas entered Stewart Global’s Charleston office without a public relations team.
He brought no presentation.
No promotional video.
No polished speech.
Victoria came with him, though she sat on the opposite side of the conference table.
Jenna attended virtually from Chicago.
Her new position would not officially begin for two weeks, but the board had asked her to observe the communications portion of the review.
Before the meeting, she submitted a written conflict disclosure and removed herself from the final vote.
Emmett sat at the head of the table.
“Mr. Hart,” he said, “you requested an opportunity to revise your submission.”
Nicholas opened a folder.
“The original investment materials contained misleading information.”
No one interrupted.
“Several projected contracts were categorized as secured revenue. Vendor obligations were delayed and excluded from the executive summary. Client retention was calculated using a method that made the figure appear higher than it was.”
A board member adjusted her glasses.
“Who authorized those choices?”
“I did.”
“Did your financial officers object?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“One resigned. Another was told to revise the presentation.”
Victoria closed her eyes briefly.
Nicholas continued.
“I have sent corrected records to the board. I have also informed Aurelius employees and current investors that our previous summaries were inaccurate.”
“Why?” another director asked. “Because you were caught?”
Nicholas did not answer immediately.
“At first, yes.”
The room remained silent.
“Then my sister told me accountability is only humiliation when protecting your image matters more than correcting the harm. I have spent most of my career protecting the image.”
He placed another document on the table.
“I am reducing my salary to one dollar until every overdue small vendor is paid. I am stepping down as sole financial authority. If the company continues, an independent officer will approve all future reporting.”
Emmett looked toward Victoria.
“Mrs. Hart, were you aware of these problems before the wedding?”
“No.”
“Are you an investor in the company?”
“My family trust was scheduled to invest after our marriage. That transfer has been canceled.”
Nicholas lowered his eyes but did not protest.
The review lasted three hours.
When it ended, Emmett addressed him.
“Stewart Global will not make the investment you originally requested.”
Nicholas nodded, his face tight.
“However, Aurelius has valuable contracts, strong staff, and a recoverable operating model.”
Nicholas looked up.
“We are willing to offer a limited restructuring loan through an independent recovery fund. The money will be paid directly to vendors and payroll accounts. You will receive no personal compensation from it.”
“I understand.”
“The company will undergo quarterly audits. A restructuring officer will hold final financial authority for eighteen months.”
Nicholas glanced at Victoria before answering.
“I accept.”
“This is not a rescue,” Emmett said. “It is an opportunity to repair what your decisions damaged.”
“I understand.”
After the meeting, Nicholas remained in the conference room while the directors left.
Jenna was about to disconnect when he approached the screen.
“Can you stay for a minute?”
She waited.
“You saved my company.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You recommended the restructuring option.”
“I recommended protecting employees and vendors from the consequences of your choices.”
“That sounds like saving it.”
“The company survives only if you change.”
Nicholas nodded.
“I’m trying.”
“I hope so.”
He reached into his folder and removed a folded page.
“I wrote something.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow.
“Without help?”
“Without help.”
He unfolded the page but did not read it aloud.
“I started writing an apology. Then I realized I was trying to make it sound impressive.”
“That is a common first-draft problem.”
“So I reduced it to one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Nicholas looked directly at the screen.
“I treated your love like a service I was entitled to receive.”
Jenna said nothing.
It was not a beautiful sentence.
It was not designed for applause.
It was true.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
This time, Jenna believed he understood what the apology was for.
“I’m not ready for everything to be normal,” she replied.
“It shouldn’t be.”
“But perhaps we can build something different.”
Nicholas nodded.
“I’d like that.”
Before ending the call, Jenna noticed a drawing pinned to the wall behind him.
A green dragon with uneven wings.
At the bottom, beneath Jenna’s signature, Leo had written:
May you like
THE DRAGON WAS AFRAID OF THE TRUTH.
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