Her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze locked with Carlton's. He didn't blink. He knew what she was thinking. He had probably anticipated every angle she'd consider before even walking into this meeting.
Penelope exhaled slowly.
She could try to push for more. Stall. Pretend to negotiate.
But time wasn't on her side. The board was starting to lean toward Abigail. One more good move from that girl and everything Penelope had built could begin to collapse like a house of cards.
And then there was the grandmother. The old woman had yet to play her hand—but everyone knew that when she did, it would shake the entire table.
This—this alliance—was her best and possibly last chance to eliminate Abigail for good.
She gave a slow, almost reluctant nod.
"Well," she said, her voice steady but layered with calculation, "it seems I don't have much of a choice here. My hands are tied."
Carlton didn't smile, but his fingers tapped the edge of his glass, a signal of his satisfaction.
