The oak doors at the back of the room opened.

I walked in wearing a tailored black suit, my medical lenses shielding my healing eyes from the glare of the skyline. Flanked by my parents, I passed the guest seating and took the high-backed chair at the head of the table.

Daniel’s jaw dropped. He looked at my parents, then back at me, trying to work out the impossible math of it.

“Claire?” he choked. “What are you doing here? Why is she sitting in the chairman’s seat?”

My father stepped forward. He didn’t look like a retired schoolteacher today. He set a thick, red-tagged loan file down in front of Malcolm Cross.

“She’s sitting there, Daniel,” he said, his voice low, “because Claire is the primary beneficiary of the Hart Family Trust. And the Hart Family Trust is the sole controlling entity of Hartwell Capital.”