Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Battle
The headquarters of Aura Skin occupied the top three floors of a gleaming glass tower overlooking the Portland harbor. It was a temple of minimalist design—all white marble, brushed gold accents, and giant, floor-to-ceiling portraits of Lila looking radiant, her flawless skin catching the simulated sunlight.
But today, the atmosphere inside the building was more like a funeral home.
The elevators were packed with anxious-looking employees whispering in hushed tones. The news of the federal investigation and the imminent FDA recall had leaked to the press at dawn, and the company's stock price was already down thirty-four percent before the opening bell.
I walked through the glass double doors of the executive boardroom, followed by Mr. Harrison and a team of independent forensic accountants I had hired using my newly released trust funds.
The board members were already seated around the massive walnut table. At the head of the table sat my mother, looking desperate, flanked by three high-priced corporate lawyers. Next to her was Lila, wearing a oversized black designer suit, looking incredibly out of place and terrified. She had spent the morning trying to delete thousands of angry comments from her social media accounts, but the internet never forgets.
"This meeting is highly irregular," my mother’s lead attorney, a sharp-eyed man named Mr. Sterling, said as I took a seat at the opposite end of the table. "Miss Nora Vance has no official executive standing in this company."
"She has fifty percent of the voting shares, Mr. Sterling," Mr. Harrison countered, placing a stack of certified legal documents on the table. "And under Section 4 of the corporate bylaws, any shareholder holding more than forty percent of the voting stock can call an emergency session of the board in the event of a material threat to the company’s survival. I think an FDA recall and a federal arson investigation qualify as a material threat."
A murmur of agreement ran through the board members. These were people who cared about one thing: their investments. They didn't care about family drama, but they cared very much about losing millions of dollars.
"We need to control the narrative," my mother said, leaning forward, her voice tight. "We can issue a statement blaming the raw material suppliers for the synthetic polymers. We can say we were victims of supply chain fraud. And as for the... the other matters, they are personal family issues that have no bearing on the company’s operations."
"The public doesn't believe you anymore, Catherine," one of the senior board members, a wealthy investor named Eleanor Vance (my father's cousin), said coldly. "The video from the party has over ten million views on TikTok. The entire world saw Nora's scars. They saw Lila laughing at her. The brand's image is toxic. Parents are throwing our products in the trash."
Lila stood up, her hands slamming onto the table. "It was a joke! We always tease each other like that! Nora is just oversensitive! She’s always been the weird one!"
"Lila, sit down," Eleanor snapped, her voice like ice.
Lila bit her lip, her eyes filling with angry tears as she sank back into her leather chair.
"There is only one way to save this company from total liquidation," I said, my voice cutting through the tension.
Everyone turned to look at me. I stood up, leaning my hands on the table, letting them see the faint, white lines of scar tissue on my wrists where the fire had burned through my long sleeves ten years ago.
"We rebrand," I said. "We fire the current executive board, starting with my mother and father. We issue a full public apology, take complete responsibility for the chemical impurities, and establish a permanent, independent oversight committee for ingredient safety."
"You want to fire me?" my mother gasped, her eyes wide with outrage. "I built this company! I am Aura Skin!"
"You built a lie, Mother," I said. "And the lie is over. I am proposing a complete restructuring. We will pivot from 'anti-aging perfection' to 'skin restoration and healing.' We will partner with burn recovery centers and reconstructive surgery foundations. We will use the company's profits to fund free skin grafts for low-income burn victims."
The board members stared at me, their expressions shifting from skepticism to genuine interest. It was a brilliant PR move, and more importantly, it was the right thing to do.
"And who will lead this new brand?" Eleanor asked, her eyes locked onto mine. "Who will be the face of this restoration line?"
I looked at Lila, who was staring at me with a mixture of fear and jealousy. Then I looked back at the board.
"There won't be a 'face' of the company anymore," I said. "We don't need a perfect, airbrushed teenager to tell people they are beautiful. We need real results. I will take over as interim CEO, with Mr. Harrison as chief legal counsel. My mother and father will surrender their executive shares as part of a plea deal with the federal prosecutors to avoid maximum jail time for the 2016 arson."
"A plea deal?" my father’s voice came from the back of the room. He had just walked in, accompanied by two federal agents. He looked at my mother, then at me, and gave a slow, painful nod.
"She’s right, Catherine," he said softly. "It’s over. The feds have the bank records from the offshore accounts we used to hide the insurance money. If we don't cooperate now, we’re going to prison for twenty years."
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My mother looked around the room, searching the faces of her board members, her lawyers, her husband, and her favorite daughter. But she found no allies left.
The house of cards had finally collapsed.
