ABIGAIL

"Lysander has redacted his statement about you not being fit to run Nash Corps." Carlos curled his lips into a smug smile as he tossed the red envelope toward me while two women fussed with my hair. I picked it up, glanced at him, and tugged the string until the flap slid open.

I pulled out the papers, a neat stack showing every board member’s vote, Lysander’s name right there with the others. They’d all voted for me, just like we planned.

I scoffed and tossed the envelope aside as the stylists went back to pampering me.

"Why wouldn't he?" I pursed my lips. "The blackmail we have on...