The elevator's soft chime echoed through the marble hallway as the polished steel doors slid open. Alina stepped out, her heels clicking against the floor like a metronome counting down to judgment day.
"Good morning, Miss Marrowgate." The staff lined up like soldiers awaiting inspection. Their heads bowed in perfect synchronization.
"Morning, Patricia. James." Alina nodded to each one, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach. The familiar scent of expensive leather and fresh coffee filled her nostrils as she approached the conference room.
"Here we go."
The heavy oak doors opened with a whisper. Inside, the morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table.
The room felt like a cathedral of power—high ceilings, oil paintings of dead Marrowgate nobles, and the kind of silence that made your ears ring.
Darius Marrowgate sat at the head of the table like a king on his throne. His silver hair was slicked back perfectly, not a strand out of place. The man who'd inherited an empire from his father now commanded it with the same iron fist that had crushed their competitors decades ago.
Around the table, the board members looked like a pack of well-dressed vultures. Expensive suits, fake smiles, and eyes that calculated profit margins faster than computers.
Aunt Rosana sat to Darius's right, her emerald dress matching the cold glint in her eyes. She raised her coffee cup in a mock toast as Alina entered.
"Alina, darling. Right on time." Rosana's voice dripped honey, but her smile was pure venom.
"Father. Aunt Rosana." Alina took her seat three chairs down from the head—close enough to matter, far enough to know her place. The leather chair groaned softly as she settled in.
Darius acknowledged her, then checked his watch. A Mirano Luxique that cost more than most people's houses.
"Let's begin."
The room fell silent except for the soft rustle of papers. Harold Blackstone, the Chief Financial Officer, opened his tablet and cleared his throat. The man looked like he'd been born wearing a calculator for a heart.
"Third quarter results are in." Harold's fingers danced across the screen. "Overall revenue up twelve percent. ⊽847 million across all subsidiaries."
A few approving nods around the table. Rosana made a note in her leather-bound journal.
"Stormgate United FC continues to perform well financially," Harold continued. "Matchday revenue up eight percent, merchandise sales through the roof since the Henderson signing. But..." He paused, the word hanging in the air like a bad smell.
"But?" Darius's voice could freeze water.
"Stadium maintenance costs are killing us. Ironbound Arena quoted ⊽15 million for structural repairs. The pitch needs complete renovation before next season."
Board member Thomas Grey leaned forward. The old man's hands shook slightly as he reached for his water glass. "That's if we're still in the Royal Championship next season."
'Ah. Here it comes.' Alina felt the tension spike.
Every eye in the room turned toward the large screen mounted on the wall. Harold tapped his tablet, and the Royal Championship League table appeared.
[Position 7: Stormgate United FC - 68 points, 38 games played]
"We're two points behind sixth place," Harold explained. "The promotion playoffs require top six finish. Eight games left in the season."
Darius drummed his fingers on the table. Each tap sounded like a gunshot. "What's our projection?"
"Sixty percent chance we make playoffs. Thirty percent chance we get promoted to the Imperial Crown League."
Rosana set down her coffee cup with a sharp clink. "Sixty percent isn't good enough. Not with the money we've invested."
"The Henderson transfer alone cost us ⊽12 million," added Margaret Wells, Head of Marketing. Her red lipstick looked like a wound against her pale skin. "If we don't get promoted, that's dead money."
Alina watched the numbers dance across the screen. Player wages, transfer fees, stadium costs—millions of terras floating around like confetti. But behind every number was a dream. Fans who saved for months to buy season tickets. Kids who wore the jersey to school with pride.
"Stormgate Analytics shows concerning trends," Harold continued. "Player fitness levels down four percent from last season. Too many injuries, not enough depth in the squad."
"What about the manager?" This from Peter Morrison, the youngest board member. His designer glasses reflected the morning light. "Maybe it's time for a change."
Darius raised his hand. Silence fell instantly.
"The manager stays. For now." His voice brooked no argument. "What about our other subsidiaries?"
Harold scrolled through his tablet. "Stormgate CrestMedia had a strong quarter. Broadcasting rights for SFC events are up twenty-three percent. The new streaming platform is gaining subscribers daily."
"Stormgate Terra Bank?"
"Steady growth. Noble families are moving more assets our way. The new investment packages are performing well. Returns averaging eleven percent annually."
"Stormcore Labs?"
Harold's expression darkened. "That's... complicated. The SFC partnership is lucrative, but the research costs are astronomical. ⊽23 million spent on drug development this quarter alone."
Rosana leaned back in her chair. "With no tangible results yet."
"These things take time," Darius said. But Alina caught the slight edge in his voice. Even her father had limits.
"What about Aviation?" asked Margaret.
"Private jet services are booming. Noble families love their toys. Revenue up eighteen percent. The new fleet expansion should be complete by year-end."
The meeting continued for another hour. Numbers flying across screens, charts updating in real-time, projections and forecasts that would determine the fate of thousands of employees.
Alina sat quietly, absorbing it all and learning for when it was her turn. This was her inheritance—a sprawling empire built on football dreams and noble ambitions. The weight of it pressed down on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.
Finally, Darius closed his leather portfolio.
"The playoff push is our priority. Whatever it takes. I don't care if we have to buy the officials—Stormgate United will get promoted."
He stood, and everyone else followed like marionettes on strings.
"Meeting adjourned."
As the board members filed out, chattering about lunch plans and golf games, Alina remained seated in thought.
Rosana paused beside her chair. "Deep thoughts, darling?"
Alina looked up at her aunt's perfectly painted face. "Just wondering if sixty percent is enough to build dreams on."
Rosana's laugh was like breaking glass. "Dreams don't pay the bills, sweetheart. Money does."
She turned to walk away but stopped, a smile bloomed on her face as she asked, "Let's go grab a meal, dear. My treat."
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