Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 186

Xander’s POV

The morning of the board meeting, I watch Daphne get ready with the methodical precision of someone preparing for battle.

She's thirty-one weeks pregnant. Her ankles are so swollen the only shoes that fit are the professional heels she bought two sizes larger than normal.

The maternity suit is tailored—expensive fabric designed to project authority despite the belly that makes any attempt at professional posture nearly impossible.

Every movement costs her. She pauses halfway through buttoning her jacket to rest her hand against the dresser, breathing through what I recognize now as a contraction.

Weaker than the ones that sent us to the hospital two nights ago, but present. Her body is still preparing, still practicing for the delivery that could come any day now.

"You don't have to do this today." I keep my voice gentle. "We could postpone. Cite medical reasons. No one would question—"

"No." She cuts me off without looking away from the mirror. "Eleanor is counting on me being too weak to fight back. That's exactly why we're doing this now—to prove her catastrophically wrong."

She applies lipstick with a steady hand that contradicts the exhaustion written across her face. Armor. War paint. The visual projection of strength when her body is screaming for rest.

But her eyes are steel, absolutely focused. She's been preparing for this confrontation since Maya left that USB drive on her desk.

Since she spent the night compiling evidence and building her case. Since she called me at three in the morning to review her presentation one more time.

Eleanor wanted Daphne vulnerable, wanted her visibly pregnant and physically compromised when the board voted on medical leave.

Daphne is going to use that expectation as a weapon.

"Your tie is crooked." She gestures without turning. I adjust it in the mirror behind her. Our eyes meet in the reflection.

"You're sure about this?" I ask quietly.

"I'm sure about survival." She turns to face me finally. "I'm sure about not letting Eleanor win. Everything else is negotiable."

We arrive at the corporate offices thirty minutes before the meeting. Daphne insisted on being early despite my suggestion that we time our entrance.

She wants to settle, to breathe, to not walk into the boardroom already exhausted from the drive.

Maya is waiting in the hallway outside the boardroom. She straightens when she sees us, something flickering across her face too fast to name.

"Everything ready?" Daphne asks.

"Everything." Maya holds up a tablet. "Files are loaded. Presentation is queued. Backup copies in three separate locations in case anyone tries to interfere with the technology."

Her thoroughness would be impressive if I wasn't increasingly concerned about where that thoroughness comes from. But that's tomorrow's problem. Today, we use whatever advantages we have.

Archie appears from the security office down the hall. His eyes scan the space automatically—exits, potential threats, anomalies.

When they land on Maya, something complicated crosses his face. Not quite suspicion, not quite trust, but something in between that I recognize because I'm feeling it too.

But he nods at me. Professional. "Perimeter is secure. Board members are arriving. No unexpected guests."

We gather outside the boardroom doors. Daphne, me, Maya with her files, Archie positioned where he can see everything. A small army preparing for corporate warfare.

"Last chance to reconsider," I tell Daphne quietly. She just looks at me, then walks through the doors.

The board members are already seated. Ten of them around the long table, murmuring among themselves with the careful neutrality of people who know they're about to witness something significant.

Lucinda sits near the middle, her face arranged in concerned sympathy. Harrison beside her, expression unreadable. And at the far end of the table, positioned like she's already won, sits Eleanor.

But something's different.

Her confidence seems fractured. She sits too straight, spine rigid in a way that suggests tension rather than poise.

Her jaw is tight, hands folded on the table with controlled precision that looks more like restraint than composure.

When her eyes find Daphne entering, there's calculation rather than triumph. Assessment rather than satisfaction. Like she's recalculating odds she thought were certain.

Something has changed overnight. Shifted the foundation Eleanor was standing on. Changed the equation in ways I can't identify but can see written across her face.

Behind us, Maya and Archie enter. Maya carries the files we've prepared—evidence compiled with the precision of a prosecutor building a case.

Archie positions himself near the door, back to the wall, where he can see all exits and all potential threats.

I help Daphne to her seat at the head of the table. Watch her settle with controlled effort, refusing to show weakness even as every line of her body broadcasts vulnerability.

Her hand rests on her belly where Hope has been worryingly still this morning. Another contraction ripples across her abdomen but her face stays composed.

The room goes quiet, every eye on Daphne. Some sympathetic—Marcus, Patricia, a few others who've worked with her long enough to respect her competence.

Some calculating—Lucinda, Harrison, board members who've been listening to Eleanor's whisper campaign. All waiting to see if she's strong enough to survive what comes next.

Daphne takes a breath. Settles her hands on the table. Looks directly at Eleanor.

"Thank you all for coming on short notice." Her voice is steady, clear, carrying none of the exhaustion I know she's feeling.

"I understand there's a proposal on the table regarding my position. Before we vote on that, I'd like to present some information that's relevant to the discussion."

She opens the first file. Maya leans forward to set the tablet in front of her, presentation already loaded. Eleanor's face doesn't change, but her hands tighten fractionally on the table, knuckles going white with pressure.

Daphne meets Eleanor's eyes across the length of the boardroom. Holds her gaze for three full seconds—a challenge, a declaration.

"Let's talk about how we got here," Daphne says quietly. "About the concerns that have been raised regarding my capacity. About the questions surrounding my judgment. About the careful campaign to position my pregnancy as a liability to this company."

She pauses, and lets the implication hang.

"And let's talk about who's been orchestrating that campaign. And why."

The room is absolutely silent. No one moves, no one breathes. All eyes shift between Daphne and Eleanor like spectators at a match that's about to turn bloody.

Eleanor's face remains composed, but something flickers behind her eyes. Not fear exactly, more like... resignation.

She’s already calculated this outcome and knows it doesn't end well for her but is preparing to fight anyway.

Daphne clicks to the first slide. Audio begins to play through the speakers.

Eleanor's voice fills the room, clear and unmistakable, expressing concern about Daphne's condition to a board member who didn't know the call was being recorded.

The war begins.

I sit beside Daphne, watching her present evidence with surgical precision. Watching Eleanor's carefully constructed narrative dismantle piece by piece.

Watching the board members' faces shift from sympathy to confusion to dawning understanding.

And I watch Maya standing against the wall, her face professionally neutral, and wonder what she's really doing here. Who she really is, what debt she's accumulated gathering evidence that should have been impossible to obtain.

But that's a problem for another day.