The executive floor was eerily quiet. Glass offices that usually bustled with activity stood empty, their occupants notably absent. Computer screens displayed login pages that would never again welcome their usual users. Zoe led me to a side room adjacent to the main boardroom. Through a partially open door, I could see people gathering. Somber faces, urgent whispers, water glasses no one touched.
“Wait here,”
Zoe instructed.
“The chair will call you in when they’re ready.”
Alone, I checked my phone. A message from Eliza. Second phase proceeding now. Nine search warrants being executed simultaneously. I smiled. Perfect timing. From the boardroom, voices grew louder. Someone was demanding answers. Another was insisting on legal representation. A third voice, firm, authoritative, cut through the chaos.
“This meeting will come to order,”
announced Edmund, the board chair.
“We face unprecedented allegations that require immediate action.”
The door swung open. Edmund, a silver-haired man with calculating eyes, nodded at me.
“Please join us, Miss Leona.”
The boardroom contained twenty-three people, the full twelve-person board, several senior executives who hadn’t been at my presentation yesterday, and a cluster of grave-faced attorneys. The three empty chairs at the table were conspicuous.
“For those who haven’t met her, this is Leona, our Quality Assurance Director,”
Edmund said,
“or rather, our former director, according to termination papers that were apparently filed yesterday afternoon. Papers I never approved.”
Murmurs rippled across the room. Edmund continued,
“Leona has agreed to present her findings directly to this board before speaking with federal investigators later today.”
Baxter, who sat rigid near the far end, interrupted.
“This is highly irregular. Our attorneys should review any materials before—”
“You’ve forfeited that privilege,”
Edmund cut in sharply.
“The regulators have already seized most company records. We’re trying to understand what’s happening before the markets open and this company loses half its value.”
He nodded toward me.
“The floor is yours.”
I connected my tablet to the presentation system. The room darkened and the screens illuminated with the same slides I’d begun showing yesterday.
“As I started explaining yesterday, before the executive team departed,”
I began, my voice steady,
“our quality assurance protocols have been systematically compromised for approximately thirty-six months.”
For the next forty minutes, I methodically laid out everything I had discovered. Altered test results, suppressed incident reports, modified safety parameters. I showed communications proving deliberate concealment of equipment failures, including three that had resulted in patient injuries at hospitals. The board members’ expressions shifted from skepticism to shock to barely contained fury.
“This can’t be accurate,”
insisted Vivien when I paused.
“These are isolated incidents being presented without context.”
“Actually,”
I replied,
“I haven’t even shown you the most concerning evidence.”
