Damon did not take his seat.
He gestured to Arthur, who opened the first legal carton and distributed red folders to every board member.
"Before we discuss Victoria’s revoked membership," Damon said calmly, "we will discuss the forensic recreation of October twelfth, seven years ago."
Richard Kensington shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair, a sudden bead of sweat breaking across his temple.
"October twelfth? What does that have to do with last night's gala?"
"Everything," Damon replied, leaning forward.
He tapped the projector remote on the podium, illuminating the fifty-foot presentation screen.
On screen appeared a digitized police accident report from the coastal highway, alongside high-resolution aerial scans of the crash site.
"For seven years, this board accepted the tragedy of my wife's passing as a terrible weather accident," Damon stated.
"However, private reconstruction teams spent last night examining the paint transfer recovered from Elena’s rear bumper."
A chemical spectroscopy report appeared on the monitor.
*Paint Transfer Analysis: Lacquer match to customized black Mercedes-Maybach limousine.*
"And who held the exclusive registration for that specific model in this county seven years ago, Richard?" Damon asked.
Richard Kensington’s jaw twitched violently.
"Damon, this is absurd! You're reviving old conspiracy theories to distract from your behavior last night!"
Victoria sneered, crossing her arms.
"You're defending a gutter girl who tried to steal food, Damon! Have you lost your mind?"
Damon clicked the remote once more.
The screen changed to display the official certified DNA report signed by Dr. Marcus Evans at dawn.
*Subject: Lily Sterling. Biological match: Damon Sterling — 99.99%.*
The entire boardroom gasped as one.
Victoria Kensington froze, the color draining completely from her face.
"She wasn't a stray, Victoria," Damon said, every word hitting like an iron hammer.
"She was my daughter."
