The boardroom is on the 47th floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Mexico City. A long glass table. Fourteen executive chairs.
Only eight are filled today.
I'm the ninth.
As I walk in, the conversations stop. Everyone looks up. I'm the youngest person in this room by at least fifteen years. I'm the only woman. I'm the wife of the man who should be running this meeting.
"Good morning," I say, sitting at the head of the table. The head of the table where Rio should be.
"Ms. Salvacion," someone says - I think his name is Morales, VP of Operations. "We weren't expecting you to run this meeting personally. We assumed you'd send someone to represent—"
"I'm here to represent my husband," I say, cutting him off. "As his wife and as the acting president until he recovers. Any issues with that?"
No one speaks.
"Good," I say. "Let's begin."
