The double doors swung open, and Arthur Sinclair walked in, leaning slightly on his polished ebony cane, accompanied by Elena Vance.
Vivienne scoffed softly, leaning over to whisper something to Marcus, who managed an uneasy smirk.
"Arthur," Henderson began, standing up and adjusting his jacket with theatrical professionalism. "Before we begin the proceedings regarding the executive succession, my clients have filed a formal injunction. Given your recent health disclosures and what we characterize as compromised judgment, we are moving for an immediate freezing of voting rights and an emergency trusteeship."
The board members murmured anxiously, exchanging uneasy glances. Henderson looked around the room, basking in the anticipated victory.
Arthur reached the head of the table, declining the seat offered by an assistant. He stood upright, resting both hands on the silver handle of his cane, his gaze sweeping across the room with absolute authority.
"An injunction, Mr. Henderson?" Arthur's voice cut through the murmurs, cold and resonant. "Based on what grounds? Compromised judgment?"