Page 3 — “You Don’t Own The Room. You Rent Air In It.”
Mark’s brain tried to protect itself with denial.
“Okay,” he said too loudly, forcing a grin. “Funny. Very funny. Some kind of corporate joke. Arthur, right? You’re playing along.”
No one laughed.
Mark swallowed. “Babe… tell them. Tell them they’re misunderstanding.”
“They aren’t,” Sterling said.
He turned slightly, just enough to address the room without raising his voice. That was the terrifying part—he didn’t need volume to dominate.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sterling said, “you are currently attending an event paid for by NovaStream’s corporate account. That account is authorized by one person.”
He gestured toward me.
“Our Chairwoman. Majority shareholder. And the founder of the holding structure that owns NovaStream and six other subsidiaries.”
In the corner, someone whispered, “Founder?” as if saying it too loudly might get them fired.
