11:00 AM. Carter Group Headquarters, Executive Boardroom.

The conference room was filled with the low, anxious hum of twelve men and women in expensive suits. These were the Department Heads the engine that ran the Carter Group. They had survived Mr. Carter’s rages and Vivienne’s icy perfectionism, but today, they looked unsure.

“She’s a painter,” the Chief Financial Officer, Mr. Edward, muttered to the Head of Marketing. “She doesn’t know a balance sheet from a canvas. Damian Cross is clearly running this through a puppet.”

“I give her a week,” the Marketing Head whispered back. “She’ll crack under the pressure. Did you see her at the hospital? She’s too fragile.”...