Twelve days. Twelve. Dreadful. Days.

Twelve days of dull pain. Twelve days of stitches. Twelve days of nonstop news reports. Twelve days of no word from Waltaire. Twelve days of wondering what went wrong? Twelve days of pure anxiety and suffering. In those twelve days she cooped up inside her apartment and all the windows were blocked off. She watched the TV with a religious conviction in a lame attempt to piece together just what exactly went down.

Nell battled herself about what might happen.

Does that press conference mark the end? Is this the end of her legacy? Has all her work been for nothing? Will the life she led all be for naught and she would be forced to become some unknown recluse? Is there really no hope for her in the eyes of the public, or worse, Waltaire?

Is she really irredeemable?

Or maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe she could be redeemed. Maybe, just maybe, somebody somewhere will make it all go away and she can return to her daily life. All her sacrifice– all that she’s done– won’t be thrown out in just a few painful days, and it can become some long-forgotten nightmare. A simple PR slip-up, is all!

But Nell wouldn’t know until she got called in on that fateful thirteenth day. Her skin itched to a fervor as she slipped on her familiar suit. Her limo felt like Charon’s boat to the Underworld.

She waltzed through the familiar foreboding hallways of The Board level. She had never felt so small, not even on her first day here. On her first day here, she felt excited, eager. She had known that she made it to the top. All the nay-sayers and all the gambling paid off, and she officially became a major shareholder and Board member. What was once a hallway of victory now felt like one of despair. The tall, dark shadows of the hall felt endless and the crossing pillars supporting the walls never felt so insecure before. She could hear the soft echo of her wingtips tapping across the floor as she paced. The posters she once praised now degraded her.

Nell’s breath rang in her ears as dull pain throbbed on the side of her face. Hell, she could hear the uneven pumps of her heart.

“The Board will see you now,” an AI generated voice called out, as she no longer had the privilege to enter The Boardroom unannounced. Nell flinched awake from her endless wonderings and crept to her doom.

The doors slid open and she was met with the heavy stares of her fellow Board members. This was the only time she hated sitting at the far end of the table, but she begrudgingly stalked around their seats to take her own. None of them stood. Despite their carefully concealed expressions and robotically static stances, she could sense the judgment clouded behind. Nell quickly yet awkwardly settled herself into her seat, perching both her hands on the table.

Daniels was the first to speak. With a clearing of his throat, the CEO began the meeting.

“We are here to discuss the status of Director Nell Miller’s public relations . . . Mishap, and discuss strategies of how to address it” he addressed to the rest of The Board. He then turned his focus onto Nell. “Thank you for meeting with us, despite your condition.” He motioned to the stitches and bandages that were patched up on her face. Nell gave a meek nod in response. He turned his attention back to The Board.

“This is an open meeting. Each Board member will have the opportunity to speak on the situation, including Director Miller, and offer insight into how we may proceed. Any questions?”

“I would like to speak first, if you don’t mind,” Romanov interjected, standing up from her seat. She met Nell’s glance momentarily, offering a soft smile of assurance. Nell matched it gratefully. “We are well aware of how the press conference earlier in the month transpired. You first have to understand that it was rigged against us from the very start. That mob clearly was against her from the beginning, despite what Director Miller would’ve said, and frankly, it’s on our PR team for putting her in that situation. She wasn’t even given five minutes to speak. Not to mention, they were all a part of the percentage who aren’t particularly educated and are easily influenced by the media– a percentage I am well acquainted with as CMO. Something was bound to happen, whether we planned for it or not.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Romanov scanned over The Board before continuing. “I believe our best approach is to continue the battle. We weren’t quick enough to twist the media in our favor, and that’s a mistake on our behalf. But that doesn’t mean we can’t spin it now. Even if Director Miller did or didn’t do the actions she did, it doesn’t matter. I assure you, this is a battle we can win.”

She sank into her seat and Morrigan didn’t hesitate to take her place. Nell shrank further into her seat.

“I would like to begin by saying I agree with Romanov on some of her statements. It does not matter if Director Miller committed the crimes she did. However, that is as far as I will go.” He spat. “This mistake is irreversible. This situation can and will take a downward spiral. Already, we are losing shares by the minute and trust from the public by the second. Profits are leaking out of us all thanks to her missteps and we cannot tolerate this for much longer. Whatever shareholders we have left are asking questions and they will want answers soon. Do you know what happens to companies with such a big disaster like this? Hm?” He glanced around the room. Nobody spoke.

“Exactly. They are unheard of again. Do you plan on ruining your own lives and this company protecting a fool?”

“I propose we dispose of Director Miller. Relieve her of her position and rescind her stake in Waltaire.”

He retook his seat as primly as ever. Nell, on the other hand, felt her soul drift out of her body. Dispose? Relieve? Rescind? He was out to ruin her life, and looking about The Board, it seemed others were joining the crusade.

As the meeting continued, it became more apparent that The Board was split. Some defended her and agreed with Romanov’s outlook on redemption, while others thought it would be much more effective to cut her off completely. Nell looked on with a glassy look and a static feeling of buzzing numbness. Now it was starting to feel like a nightmare she couldn’t shake herself awake from.

Suddenly, she was snapped from her daze to speak on her behalf. With shaky knees, she rose to her feet with all she could muster. She let out a shuddering breath and spoke with the voice of a broken woman.

“I have been a loyal investor in this company for the past, what, seven years? I-I’ve nurtured it from an idea Daniels came to me one day with to a leading innovator in the field! Every single Mint I had, every shred of blood, sweat, and tears I had in me? I sank into this company. I . . . I can’t let Waltaire go. If it weren’t for this company, I wouldn’t be the lucky woman I am today. Why would I want to bring about my own downfall? Waltaire’s downfall? I sacrificed so much to throw it all away now!

“Please,” Nell begged, trying to catch a sympathetic eye. Nobody met her gaze except Romanov. “Don’t let that be in vain. We can fix this–I can fix this!”

Nobody reacted.

Nell dropped back into her seat, drawing her gaze down to her hands. She couldn’t bear to watch it all suddenly evaporate in front of her as Daniels stood to speak.

“Thank you all for speaking and your valuable input. I have made a decision of how we might proceed.

“It appears we have to vote on Director Miller’s status in the company. Say ‘aye’ if you believe we can redirect this situation into our favor. Say ‘nay’ if you believe the best proceeding is to relieve Director Miller of her position on The Board and as an employee of Waltaire Incorporated.”

“I begin by saying Aye.”

“Romanov?” “Aye.”

“Tiber?” “Nay.”

“Cox?” “. . . Aye.”

“Peterson?” “Aye.”

“Padilla?” “Hm . . . Aye.”

“Kala?” “Nay.”

“Lee?” “Nay.”

“Robin?” “Ay– No, Nay.”

“Iacona?” “Nay.”

“Harry?” “I say Nay.”

“Miller?”

Nell felt her name ring in her ears as she scratched out a quiet “Aye.”

“A . . . A tie. I suppose the decision falls onto . . . Morrigan,” Daniels said. All at once, it seemed each Board member shifted their head to hone in on the newest executive of The Board. Nell felt her heart thunder in her ears as she turned to Morrigan. Each breath came in shallow tides and her hands scratched against the brass tabletop. Part of her begged that he have mercy. She begged that his speech earlier was for show. She begged that he had a turn of heart and that it was all going to be okay. She begged that he had some heart buried under that face of ice.

For the first and only time in her entire life, Morrigan met Nell’s gaze. It was heavy and burning– The distinct gray shade only served to make his single syllable sound that much more antagonizing and unforgiving.

“Nay.”