Hard eyes and cold stares, that’s what the board is offering me right now.

Not that I’m surprised, anyway. I’m standing at the head of a table packed with some of the most cold-blooded executives in the U.S., and I’m what’s standing between them a $1.1 trillion payday.

Most of them probably don’t like the fact that I’m a woman as well. I guess it isn’t easy to have a woman in charge, and one who knows how to do her job better than any man.

"Daphne," Elliott Wright calls my name and then clears his throat, raising his gaze toward me from the other end of the table. He’s one of the heavy-hitters of the board, a seventy-year old with more money than God himself, and a hunger for success (money is just an afterthought for him) that overshadows my love of shoes. In my head I have classified him as one of the few reasonable persons at this table. "I still don’t see why we should turn down Mr. Lee’s offer. An offer of $1.1 trillion is the best we’ll be able to do. And, really, it’s something for the history books."

Sigh. Ever since the government decided to pony up that much money, the Union Airlines board has turned into something devoid of any rationality or common sense. I mean, seriously? Do we really want to sell a company as important as Union Airlines is to the government? What do they think is going to happen? It’s not like the government is known for managing its assets in the right way.

Besides, that "something for the history books" factor is probably something very important to Elliot … and that doesn’t really help matters.

"Elliot, like I’ve been trying to explain… If we turn Union Airlines into a government entity, how long will it be before the company faces its ruin? Do we really want to bend our knees to the government, only so that we line our own pockets with money?"

"Respectfully, Daphne, we’re all in this for the money. Union Airlines isn’t a charitable organization, as I’m sure you’re aware." Now it’s Frank Stone joining the fray. He’s one of the oldest members of the board, part of the Union Airlines board since its first plane took to the skies. He’s a shrewd one (as the best executives always are), and his financial acumen has always been an asset to the company. Now, it seems that a $1.1 trillion figure is more than enough to make him turn a blind eye to what’s really happening.

Don’t get me wrong; I like money as much as the next person. I just don’t think that selling out and throwing everything that I believe into the dirt is a good thing to do, even if it means getting filthy rich in the process.

"Of course we’re in this for the money. I don’t think anyone in here is under some kind of illusion. But, still, do we really want to see the government tearing apart everything you have built these past decades? Union Airlines is one of the most important companies in the U.S., if not the world. We employ thousands of people, and we're a constant in the daily life of millions of people around the world. If we submit to the government, I don’t think that --"

"What are you afraid of, Daphne?" Frank cuts me short, placing both his elbows on the table and leaning forward. Everyone turns to him as he lowers his voice, and I realize that the board is using him as a spokesperson of sorts. If I want to convince the board not to sell to the government, Frank is the one I’ll have to convince first. "We’re talking about the U.S. government, not the Soviet Union. They’re not going to march us all into a gulag after we sell to them, and I’m pretty sure that they want to keep on running this company as capitalists."

"How can you be so sure of that, Frank?" I tell him, slowly pushing my chair back and going up to my feet. I rest both my hands on the table and look around, meeting the eyes of all twelve members of the board. "It’s not the government that’s footing the bill, Frank. We’re talking about the taxpayers’ money. They don’t care how they spend it. And as soon as they have a say on how we should run this place, you can have my word that they’ll start replacing you all one by one."

"That’s preposterous! Mr. Seymour Lee has assured me that --"

"Oh, Mr. Lee has assured you? Have you been holding private meetings with the government, Frank?" His lips turn into a thin line of contempt, and I know I’ve hit a bulls-eye. Seymour has been making the rounds, trying to make my board side with the government. And I don’t like it, not one bit. If the government is willing to act in such a shady way right from the start, I shudder to think what their plans are going to be for Union Airlines.

"Gentlemen, make no mistake about it," I continue, trying my best to hold their gaze and put some strength behind my words, "if we sell to the government, Union Airlines as we know it is doomed. And I, as its CEO, won’t let that happen. I don’t like the government’s methods, and I don’t like it that they’re willing to use the taxpayers’ money to fund an acquisition like this. You hired me to do this job because I’m the best at what I do. So all I ask is for you to trust me to do my job, so that we don’t end up on the wrong side of history."

My words hang over the board like swords, silence filling the whole room. This is it; if they side against me now, my position as CEO is doomed and I’ll have no way of stopping them if they want to sell Union Airlines to the government.

"I suppose we can wait some more time," Elliot finally says, breaking the silence. I take a deep breath, realizing that I was holding my breath, and offer him a thankful smile. I guess that the "wrong side of history" angle worked, at least on Elliot. Even though he isn’t as influential as Frank, I can carry the day with his support.

I’m about to thank the board for their patience when a chorus of ringing phones drowns out my voice. Everyone around the table starts fishing their phones out of their pockets and briefcases, and I do the same, except my own phone isn’t ringing. Only theirs are.

"Daphne, turn on the TV," Elliot tells me, a defeated look in his face. Whatever’s happening, it isn’t good. Without saying a word, I reach the remote sitting on the table right in front of me, and point it at one of the flat screens mounted on the wall.

The moment the screen turns bright, my eyes are immediately drawn to the large headline under the news presenter.

SEX SCANDAL ROCKS WALL STREET.

Oh, fuck.