Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 41

Chapter 41 Springing the Perfect Boardroom Trap

“You call this a profit margin, Sienna? I call it a robbery.”

Sebastian Blackwood slammed his notepad onto the oak table. The sound echoed like a gavel in the sterile conference room. He leaned back, his slate-gray suit jacket pulling tight across his shoulders, his eyes fixed on the projection screen. The map of Port Sterling’s shipping lanes glowed in harsh blue light behind Sienna Navarro, who stood at the head of the table.

“It’s a temporary fluctuation, Sebastian, Sienna said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She gripped her laser pointer like a weapon. “The market is volatile right now. Fuel prices spiked. I’ve accounted for the drag.”

“You’ve accounted for nothing,” Sebastian countered, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “You promised us a thirty percent increase in retained capital. Instead, the northern routes are a disaster. We’re losing product, we’re paying spoilage fees that would make a grocery store blush, and our reputation with the boutiques is in the gutter. This isn’t market volatility. This is

incompetence.”

Sienna flushed. She clicked the laser pointer, changing the slide to a graph that showed a flat line, attempting to hide the downward trend. “My team is working through the bugs in the new grid. We need time.”

I stood in the corner of the room, clutching the silver coffee carafe. My maternity dress hugged my frame, and I felt the small, sharp kick of my son against my ribs. A grounding sensation. A reminder. I poured coffee into Sebastian’s cup, the liquid steaming in the cool air. My hands stayed steady. I watched Sienna squirm, watched the arrogance drain from her posture as the four board members around the table exchanged dark looks.

They wanted a savior. They got a thief who didn’t know how to hide the evidence.

“Time is money,” I said. My voice was quiet, but it cut through the room.

Sienna whipped her head toward me. “Minerva. Not now. I told you to stay at the coffee station.”

I didn’t move. I placed the carafe on the tray and smoothed the fabric of my blazer. I took a step away from the shadows of the corner and toward the light of the table.

“The bugs aren’t in the grid, Sienna,” I said. I looked directly at Sebastian. “The problem is the application. You’re running the trucks through the city center during peak traffic hours to save on mileage, which is fine if you’re hauling coal. But you’re hauling high-end cosmetics. That product needs climate control and speed. You’re cooking the serums in the back of the truck for three

hours a day.”

Sienna’s face turned the color of ash. She stepped away from the projector screen, blocking the view of the map. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re an administrative assistant. Stick to the spreadsheets.”

I am the one who built those spreadsheets,” I replied.

The silence in the room was absolute. Even the hum of the air conditioner seemed to pause. Sienna’s eyes widened, then narrowed into slits of pure malice. She opened her mouth to speak, to lash out, to bury me in the gossip about my past that she used as a

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Chapter 41 Springing the Perfect Boardroom Trap

leash, but I didn’t give her the oxygen.

I reached into the blazer pocket and pulled out a manila folder. I didn’t slide it; I placed it squarely in the center of the oak table.

“Sienna presented you with a routing map that she claims she engineered,” I said, my voice cold, lethal. “She claims the coastal highway loop was her idea. She claims the refrigerated van lease was her initiative.”

“And it was,” Sienna snapped, though her voice wavered. “She’s lying! She’s the girl who got fired from the capital for espionage!

Look at her, she’s a-”

“Open the folder,” I commanded. I ignored her. I ignored the tabloids she kept on her desk and the rumors she spread in the breakroom. I spoke only to the men who held the checkbook. “You’ll find the original metadata. Every timestamp, every email chain, every lease negotiation initiated weeks before Sienna claimed the concept. You’ll find the server logs showing the routing algorithms were coded on the terminal at my desk. Not hers.”

Sebastian Blackwood picked up the folder. He flipped through the pages with a slow, methodical pace. He stopped at the contract negotiations. He stopped at the email timestamps. He looked at Eduardo, who sat at the end of the table, his hand resting on his

wooden cane.

‘Eduardo? Sebastian asked, his voice clipped.

Eduardo didn’t look at Sienna. He looked at me. There was no pity in his eyes, only a grim, steely respect. “The metadata is verified. I ran it through our internal security audits this morning. The strategy is Minerva’s. The execution was Minerva’s. Sienna Navarro merely attached her signature.”

Sienna stumbled back. She hit the projector screen, the fabric billowing behind her like a sail. “I… I have connections! I hold the union contracts! If you fire me, the drivers strike! You’ll lose everything!”

“We don’t need you for the union anymore,” I said.

I reached into my other pocket and pulled out a second stack of paper. “I spent the last two weeks re-negotiating the collective bargaining agreement. I drafted new terms for the drivers. Better overtime pay, better shift rotations, and a retention bonus that keeps the best men on the payroll. The union reps signed the tentative agreement yesterday. They like the new leadership, Sienna. They don’t like the one who tries to cut their hours to save her own performance bonus.”

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