Her fingers tapped once on the table—subtle, rhythmic.
"I believed that walking away was the only way to build something outside of the family's shadow. I was wrong. You were right to be furious. My father needed me. You needed me. And I wasn't there."
There was a murmur among them now—low, unreadable.
"But I'm here now," she said quietly. "And I'm not asking for blind loyalty. I'm asking for a change."
"Your timing is convenient," said Clive Hendricks, voice sharp. "There's a rumor your father is retiring soon. And your husband, he's showing interest in our field. You show up now and expect us to believe it's a coincidence? Who's to say you're not doing this to weaken the company, like you promised?"
Anita didn't flinch.
Her gaze snapped to Clive Hendricks, steady and unreadable. "If I wanted to weaken the company, Mr. Hendricks, I wouldn't be sitting here asking for your trust—I'd be standing somewhere else watching this place burn."
