Chapter 6: The Emergency Proxy
Friday morning arrived with a biting chill that clung to the iron gates of Sterling Industries.
By 11:45 AM, the executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor was packed to capacity. The room hummed with nervous energy. Rumors of my permanent paralysis, corporate stagnation, and a hostile takeover by Stephen’s faction had been aggressively leaked to the financial press all week. The stock price had dropped four percent by morning trading, creating a manufactured panic.
At precisely 11:55 AM, the double doors swung open.
Elise walked in first, dressed in a sharp charcoal blazer, her head held high like a queen claiming her throne. Behind her walked Stephen, carrying the signed legal binder under his arm like a sacred text. Several board members murmured respectfully, rising to greet them.
My uncle sat near the head of the table, his expression troubled, but he didn't look back when Elise took her seat.
"Good afternoon, members of the board," Elise began, her voice ringing clear and authoritative through the acoustic panels of the room. "As you know, my husband, Arthur, has suffered a catastrophic medical event. His recovery has plateaued, and per the consensus of his physicians, he is no longer capable of discharging his duties as CEO."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the middle tiers of the table. Two executives who owed their positions to Stephen nodded gravely.
"Under the emergency provisions of our corporate charter," Stephen stepped in, taking the floor with practiced smoothness, "Elise has been legally designated as his medical and financial proxy. She holds his voting shares, effective immediately. And with her backing, I am proposing an immediate vote to install me as interim CEO to stabilize the market."
He laid the thick leather folder open on the mahogany table, proudly displaying the final page bearing my signature.
"Are there any objections?" Stephen asked, scanning the room with a confident, victorious smirk.
"I have one," a voice echoed from the doorway.
The heavy oak doors clicked open. The chatter in the room instantly died.
I rolled through the threshold, my hands resting on the wheels of the chair, my head bowed slightly, wrapped in the gray blanket. Victor stood silently right behind me, pushing the chair with measured, deliberate steps.
May you like
Elise’s smile froze. Her face drained of color as she stared at me, as if she were looking at a ghost.
"Arthur..." she gasped, her voice tightening. "What are you... you shouldn't be out of bed. The doctor said—"
