The Consortium Behind Your Collapse

The Boardroom Humiliation

Julian Blackwood knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the Adam Industries headquarters.

The receptionist who usually greeted him with polite smiles couldn't meet his eyes. Security guards who normally nodded in acknowledgment suddenly found their shoes fascinating. Even the lobby felt colder than usual, and the silence pressed against his eardrums like water at the bottom of an ocean.

He checked his phone again, gazing at Eleanor's text from the morning.

“Board meeting at 2 PM. Be there.”

Julian tugged at the collar of his button-down shirt and straightened his slacks. 

The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor felt eternal. When the doors finally opened, Julian stepped into the executive corridor where the walls were lined with portraits of Adam patriarchs staring down with expressions of cold judgment. He'd walked this hallway a hundred times in three years of marriage, but today it felt like walking toward a gallows.

The boardroom doors stood open. Inside, he could see the large oval table surrounded by leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows, and the gleaming Adam Industries logo mounted on the far wall like a family crest.

Raymond Adam stood just outside the entrance, his arms crossed over his designer suit.

"Well, well. The leech finally arrives." Raymond's voice carried down the hallway, loud enough for everyone inside to hear.

Julian kept his expression neutral. "Eleanor said there was a meeting."

"Oh, there's a meeting." Raymond stepped forward, blocking the doorway. "But trash doesn't get to sit at the table with real businessmen. Wait here."

"Raymond, I'm family. I have a right to—"

"Family?" Raymond laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "You're a broke architect who married above his station. The only reason you're here at all is because my sister made the mistake of feeling sorry for you. Now shut up and wait like the good little charity case you are."

Heat crawled up Julian's neck, but he swallowed the anger. He'd learned over three years that fighting Raymond only made things worse. Eleanor always takes her brother's side. Always.

So Julian waited.

He stood in that corridor for twenty minutes while voices murmured inside the boardroom. Twice, junior employees passed by and gave him pitying looks.

Julian checked his watch. 2:27 PM. Through the glass panels beside the door, he could see Eleanor sitting at the table, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. She glanced toward the doorway once, saw him standing there, and looked away without reaction.

That hurt more than Raymond's insults.

Finally, Raymond appeared in the doorway and jerked his head. "Get in here. And don't touch anything expensive. I know how your kind operates."

Julian entered the boardroom.

Twelve pairs of eyes turned toward him. Shareholders, board members, and Eleanor's father, Victor at the head of the table. Eleanor sat three seats down, refusing to look at him. Her younger sister Victoria smirked from across the table, her phone in hand as always.

"Sit." Raymond pointed to a small chair shoved into the corner of the room, nowhere near the table. 

Julian's jaw tightened. "I think there's been some—"

"Did I stutter?" Raymond's voice cracked like a whip. "Sit. Down."

The room held its breath. Julian felt every eye on him, measuring, judging, and finding him wanting. He walked to the corner and sat in the chair. It wobbled slightly under his weight.

Victor Adam cleared his throat. "Now that everyone's present, we can begin." He adjusted his reading glasses and looked around the table. "This meeting was called to address dead weight in this organization, assets that drain resources without providing value, and liabilities disguised as family."

Julian's pulse kicked up. He'd been to dozens of these meetings. They were usually about quarterly reports, new contracts, and expansion plans. He has never heard about personnel. 

"We've tolerated certain... elements... out of misguided loyalty." Victor's gaze flickered briefly toward Julian. "But tolerance has limits. And when charity becomes theft, action must be taken."

"Dad, maybe we should—" Eleanor started, but Victor raised a hand and she fell silent.

Raymond stood up, and Julian noticed for the first time that he was holding a thick manila folder.

"I'll cut to the chase." Raymond walked around the table slowly, and deliberately."For the past three years, this company has been providing Eleanor's husband with a monthly allowance of twenty thousand dollars, deposited directly into his account”.

Murmurs rippled around the table and Julian's hands gripped the sides of his chair.

"What you don't know," Raymond continued, "is where that money actually went."

"Raymond, this is inappropriate—" Julian tried to stand, but Raymond wheeled on him.

"Shut your mouth, you parasite. You've been bleeding this family dry for three years, and today everyone learns exactly what kind of man my sister married."

Raymond slammed the folder onto the table with a sound like a gunshot. Papers spilled out. Invoices, bank statements, contract documents, all marked with highlighted sections and angry red circles.

"Two million dollars." Raymond's voice filled the room. "That's how much Julian Blackwood has embezzled from this family through fraudulent architectural contracts, fake projects , ghost clients, and money laundering hidden behind a legitimate business."

The room exploded in gasps and whispers. Shareholders leaned forward, craning to see the documents. Victoria was already recording on her phone, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

"That's not true." Julian's voice sounded too quiet in his own ears. "Those documents are—"

"Evidence," Raymond interrupted. "Cold, hard evidence that you're a thief and a fraud." He grabbed a handful of papers and fanned them out. "Brighton Tower renovation? The building doesn't exist. Meridian Complex contract? The company's a shell. Westside Development payment? Wired to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."

Julian stared at the documents from across the room. Even from his distance, he could see his signature on every page. His bank account numbers. His company letterhead. All of it is perfectly forged.

"Eleanor." Julian turned to his wife."You know this isn't true. You know I would never—"

Eleanor sat perfectly still, her hands folded on the table, her green eyes fixed somewhere past his shoulder.

"I don't know what I know anymore, Julian."

"Mrs. Adam, if I may." One of the shareholders, an older man with jowls, leaned forward. "What exactly did your husband tell you about his business ventures?"

"That's irrelevant." Raymond cut in before Eleanor could answer. "What matters is the evidence. Julian Blackwood is a criminal, and I'm recommending we turn these documents over to the authorities immediately."

"No." Victor Adam's single word silenced the room. He stood slowly, buttoning his suit jacket. "That would bring unwanted attention to this family and our competitors would have a field day."

"Then what do you suggest?" another board member asked.

Victor walked around the table until he stood directly in front of Julian's corner chair. Up close, the old man smelled like cigar smoke.

"You're going to disappear from my daughter's life," Victor said quietly. "You're going to sign the divorce papers and you're going to admit to your crimes in a private settlement. If you cooperate, we won't press charges. But if you want to fight us, I'll make sure you rot in prison until you're old"

Julian looked past Victor’s broad shoulders to Eleanor.

She sat rigidly at the far end of the table, her fingers folded tightly in her lap, knuckles pale as if all the blood had been drained from them. Her gaze remained fixed on her hands, lashes lowered, as though looking up might cost her something she no longer had the strength to give.

“Eleanor.”

Her name left his mouth unsteadily, the sound breaking despite the iron control he had forced on himself since stepping into this room. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. “Look at me, please"

The word please felt humiliating on his tongue, but he didn’t take it back.

She didn’t even lift her head.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even flinch.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until it was shattered by a sharp, mocking laugh.

Raymond leaned back in his chair across the room, arms crossed, eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “She’s done looking at you, charity case,” he said, his voice loud enough to echo off the glass walls of the boardroom. “You’re a stain on the Adam bloodline. And today?” His smile widened. “Today we are going to finally wash you out.”

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Others watched with open anticipation, like spectators waiting for the final act of a public execution.

Julian placed his palms on the armrests and pushed himself up.

The chair screeched against the polished floor, the sound slicing through the room. Instantly, bodies stiffened. Someone sucked in a breath. Another leaned forward, ready to intervene. They expected violence, rage, tears, or desperation. 

But Julian did neither.

He straightened slowly. His expression remained calm, almost eerily so. No clenched fists. No shaking shoulders. No raised voice.

Instead, he turned in place.

His eyes swept across the boardroom, over the men who had once shaken his hand, over the women who now looked at him with thinly veiled disdain, over the family members who had already written him off as a failure not worth remembering. He took them in one by one, as if committing their faces to memory.

Then his gaze returned to Eleanor.

This time, she was looking at him.

Her eyes met his at last, but there was no warmth in them—only exhaustion, conflict, and a quiet, defeated resolve. It was the look of someone who had already made her choice and was simply waiting for the consequences to end.

“Sign the papers, Julian.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and restrained, as though raising it any higher might make it break completely.

“Just sign them,” she said again, swallowing hard. “And go.”