Two days later, I sat fifty floors above Chicago in a glass-walled conference room, looking down at the skyline. The lawyer slid a thick folder toward me.
“Your uncle’s will includes one condition,” he said. “You must serve as acting CEO for one full year. You can’t sell or transfer shares during that time. If you keep the company stable — no scandals, no bankruptcy — everything becomes permanently yours.”
“Your uncle knew that,” David said, smiling faintly. “He believed someone uncorrupted by ambition could bring Whitmore Industries back to what it was meant to be.”
Then he handed me a handwritten letter.
Emma,
I built an empire but lost my soul doing it. You still have yours. Lead with integrity — something I never learned — and you’ll restore the Whitmore name.
I folded the letter carefully. “Then I’ll do it,” I said.
Walking Into the Lion’s Den
When I entered Whitmore Industries as its new CEO, whispers followed me through the glass corridors. The boardroom was full of skeptical faces.
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