Chapter 55: His Seat at Their Table
Conrad gave Nathan a seat before the board could question his conflict.
The new Crisis Continuity Committee met in Sterling's executive dining room, not the board chamber. My observer rights covered the license agenda, so a place card waited at the far end.
Nathan's card sat beside Celeste.
Conrad opened by calling him essential.
"Mr. Cole has protected this company through an organized attack on its records, leadership, and intellectual property. He will coordinate our response."
The independent directors had received the stock disclosure that morning. One asked whether Nathan should lead a response involving his own signature certificate.
"The certificate proves he performed his job," Conrad said.
"It proves his identity authenticated the order."
"A legal officer signing a legal review is not disqualifying."
Nathan offered to recuse from any narrow decision concerning his personal compensation. He did not offer to step away from the old investigation, the migration order, or the company's attack on me.
Conrad accepted the smallest recusal and called it complete.
The committee approved outside litigation counsel, a new investor-response budget, and authority to defend Sterling's claim to every version of the AURORA platform. The independent directors refused to endorse Nathan's neutrality, but management votes were enough to form an advisory committee.
The resolution required Nathan to report directly to Conrad, bypassing the independent audit chair who had questioned him. One director asked for dual reporting. Conrad rejected it as inefficient during a crisis.
"You are concentrating responsibility in the person whose conduct is under review," she said.
"I am placing responsibility with the person who knows the record," Conrad replied.
Nathan accepted the appointment without asking for a broader recusal.
His conflict became Conrad's reason to keep him close.
It gave him no new evidence.
It gave him a chair close to power.
Celeste waited until the agenda reached communications. Then she placed her engagement ring against the table and announced that their wedding plans would continue without delay.
"We will not let Evelyn turn our family into another weapon against Sterling," she said.
No one had asked about the wedding.
Nathan looked at her, then at Conrad. The public life he had chosen remained intact: chief legal officer, crisis adviser, future son-in-law.
He mistook proximity for protection.
Conrad described the wedding as a private matter and allowed the statement to remain in the minutes. That was how family worked at Sterling. A personal announcement became governance whenever it stabilized the people he needed.
"Does the crisis committee intend to use the engagement in investor communications?" I asked.
Celeste smiled. "Concerned about the answer?"
"Concerned about whether the board is paying for it."
The finance chair ordered wedding communications excluded from company expenses. Celeste objected, then withdrew before a vote.
It was a small correction. It also forced the room to see what she had tried to purchase with corporate authority.
Nathan said nothing.
The committee moved to litigation strategy. Sterling would challenge the safety-log findings, contest the license suspension, and investigate whether my overseas work used company trade secrets.
That last item came from Celeste.
"Evelyn did not invent a new career from nothing," she said. "She took Sterling knowledge abroad, improved it, and returned with a competitor."
"Do you have evidence?" an independent director asked.
"We are developing it."
I preserved an objection and requested that no claim be published without a source. Conrad overruled the publication restriction but required counsel review.
Nathan would be that counsel.
The meeting ended with his name on the crisis roster and Celeste's hand on his sleeve. He had the seat he had spent five years earning.
That evening, he sent Rhea a confidential settlement request addressed to me alone.
He proposed a private meeting before Sterling filed its claim.