The name was Richard Ashby.
I had to look it up. That was the first thing that told me something was wrong, because I had memorised every name on the Blackwood board, every shareholder of note, every figure in the trust structure whose presence could affect the restructuring. I had done this on the plane from Chicago, weeks ago, the way I did things, systematically and without apology, because knowing the room was how you survived it. I knew those names.
Richard Ashby was not on any list I had memorised.
He was on the list. He had been on it for twelve years. He held a minor position in the trust structure, a fraction of a percent, the kind of stake that said I am here but I do not intend to be noticed. He voted with the majority in every recorded instance, without exception, without de
