The mahogany doors of the Beaumont Industries boardroom burst open, and Cassandra Beaumont stormed out, her golden-brown skin flushed with anger. Her crisp white suit, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, stood in stark contrast to the dull, conservative attire of the men she left behind. The clicking of her heels echoed through the marble hallway, a staccato rhythm punctuating her fury.
"Miss Beaumont! Please, wait!" an elderly voice called out behind her.
Cassandra halted, her shoulders tense. She turned, fixing her piercing gaze on Reginald Hawthorne, the oldest member of the board and her late father's closest confidant.
"What is it, Mr. Hawthorne?" she asked, her voice low and controlled.
The old man hurried towards her, his breath coming in short gasps. "My dear, please reconsider. The board members—they're just concerned about the company's future."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "Concerned? Is that what we're calling their blatant greed now?"