Eleven directors.
Three remotely.
Camille walked in wearing a charcoal suit.
No crystals.
No hat.
No black gloves.
Nobody smiled.
General counsel presented.
Fleet grounded.
Record discrepancies.
Possible undisclosed sale.
Potential asset misrepresentation.
Possible internal control failure at Vaughn Meridian.
No confirmed fraud conclusion.
That phrase repeated.
No confirmed fraud.
Facts.
Board chair, Elaine Foster, asked:
“Do we terminate Sovereign Arc leases immediately?”
Camille answered:
“Not yet.”
A director stared.
“They tampered with aircraft identities.”
“Evidence indicates records manipulation.”
“Termination requires process unless safety emergency supports.”
“Safety hold is already active.”
Another director said:
“We should repossess.”
“We have protective possession.”
“Legal repossession comes after cure notices and findings.”
“Why give them time?”
Camille looked.
“Because contracts apply when we’re angry too.”
Silence.
Good.
Elaine asked:
“What about sale process?”
Aaron answered.
“Buyer counsel notified that Vaughn Meridian owns relevant aircraft entities and disputes any representation of outright ownership by Sovereign Arc.”
“Response?”
“Shock.”
“How shocked?”
“They suspended diligence.”
Someone whispered:
“That deal is dead.”
Camille said:
“Maybe.”
No celebrations.
Elaine turned to her.
“What happened in hangar before technical discovery?”
Camille knew why.
Board needed disclosure.
She told them.
Blocked corridor.
Folio taken.
Gala comment.
Barricade.
Arthur laughter.
Daniel arrival.
One director frowned.
“Were you recognized?”
“No.”
“Did they know you were CEO?”
“No.”
“So their conduct was toward someone they perceived as unaffiliated guest.”
“Yes.”
“Relevant operationally?”
Camille thought.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It suggests access-control procedure is arbitrary.”
“Instead of checking credential, they judged appearance.”
“I had valid executive credential.”
“Entrance employee verified.”
“Hangar managers did not.”
Elaine nodded.
“Separate review.”
Camille said:
“Yes.”
Another director asked:
“Are you considering discrimination?”
Camille knew question.
She was Black.
Everett and Arthur white.
Did race matter?
Maybe.
Class?
Gender?
Appearance?
Perhaps.
She refused easy certainty.
“I don’t know.”