"Right for who?" Canary asked.
"Belinda was dying, Canary. The doctors knew it. Her body was failing her faster than any of us were ready for. She was in and out of the hospital… so weak. So fragile."
She turned slowly, her eyes glassy. "Joel loved her too much. He would've broken into pieces if he knew. I couldn't let him watch her slip away every day knowing he was powerless."
"So you decided to hide it?" Canary asked, tone sharpened but low. "You took away his right to prepare. To say goodbye?"
Lucy's eyes dropped to the floor. "I thought I was protecting him."
"No," Canary said firmly. "You were protecting yourself from the pain of watching him suffer."
Lucy closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I know I was wrong, Canary. I know."
He watched her silently, his jaw clenched—not in anger, but in the ache of disappointment.
"But what's done is done," she said, brushing her tear away and forcing a small smile. "We can't bring Belinda back. Or the baby. Joel is gone now. Maybe that's for the best."
Canary didn't respond.
Lucy stepped forward, cupping his cheek gently. "Let's not let this ruin everything. Just… sit and finish your soup. It's still warm. I just want a moment where we're not carrying ghosts around."
***
The following morning, The grand conference room at Andersons Group buzzed with subdued chatter as the board members, shareholders, and high-level administrators gathered for the early morning meeting. Joel stood at the head of the polished oak table, his usual smug composure in place as he reviewed the quarterly projections.
The room was filled Ms. Daniels, Mr. Williams, Mrs. Regina, and several other key faces around the long table. The projector screen hummed silently with charts and graphs.
Just as Joel cleared his throat to resume, the door opened.
All heads turned.
Canary walked in sharp, clean-cut, unreadable. He took his time, nodding politely to a few familiar faces as he strode toward the unoccupied seat near the end of the table.
Ms. Daniels blinked in surprise. "Mr. Anderson… we didn't expect you."
"I'm sure," Canary replied calmly, pulling out a chair and sitting with quiet ease. "But last I checked, I'm still the second-largest shareholder in Andersons Group. My presence here isn't a favor—it's a right."
The room stilled for a moment.
Mr. Williams cleared his throat, barely masking the irritation in his tone. "Then perhaps you'd care to explain why you've been spending your time in the design department, instead of in here—where your influence actually matters?"
Canary offered a small, disarming smile. "Because right now, Mr. Williams, I prefer to be in a space where no one feels insecure about my presence."
That landed. A few heads turned toward Joel, whose jaw flexed ever so slightly.
"No title. No power play. Just work. Pure and simple," Canary continued. "I trust that doesn't threaten anyone here?"
Silence followed. The kind that made people sit straighter in their chairs.
Ms. Daniels glanced toward Joel, then back at Canary. "Of course not. We value transparency and contribution, wherever it comes from."
"Good," Canary said smoothly. "Then shall we proceed?"
Joel shifted, a polite smile frozen on his lips as he returned to the agenda but the atmosphere in the room had shifted. The weight of Canary's presence, even without a formal position, had reclaimed its space.
And everyone knew… this was no longer just Joel's meeting.
As the meeting progressed, charts were presented, sales figures debated, and the usual administrative updates scrolled past on the screen. Then Regina stood, sleek in her fitted navy blazer, confidence oozing from every movement. Her smile was practiced, her voice smooth.
"As Mr Rivers' adviser," she began, hands clasped elegantly, "I'm pleased to announce a new direction we've envisioned for Andersons Group a bold, refreshing line of designs that will completely redefine our brand's identity."
A murmur rose around the table as a few early concept sketches were projected onto the screen. Sleek lines, sharp edges, modern patterns strikingly different from Andersons' usual elegant and timeless designs.
"We believe," Regina continued, "that the market is shifting. Our competitors are evolving. If we want to keep up, we must step out of our comfort zone. These new concepts will not only attract a younger clientele but position Andersons as the trendsetter once again."
A few board members nodded tentatively. Mrs. Daniels clapped lightly, ever Regina's loyal supporter.
But Canary didn't even glance at the screen. He slowly leaned forward, fingers folded, and calmly spoke.
"They're impressive," he said, drawing everyone's attention. "No doubt. Bold, modern… sharp. But that's not what Andersons is."
The room went quiet.
"Our brand has always stood for more than trend. It stands for legacy quality, trust, and refinement. Change is good, but not when it's loud enough to drown out your own name."
Mr. Williams scoffed. "Isn't that the point? To be loud? To break into something new and shake off the dust?"
"But not by discarding our roots," Canary said evenly. "You don't cut down a tree to make it grow. You prune it carefully, strategically. These designs? They're classics. But not Andersons. I suggest we preserve our signature essence and introduce changes gradually. Elegant evolution not a complete identity switch."
There was a silence.
Then Mr. Thompson spoke. "He's right. Our clients know Andersons. They trust what we've built. We can innovate without losing who we are."
"I agree," another older member added. "There's something reckless in flipping everything overnight."
"I second that," said a woman in a cream suit. "Let's not lose our loyal base for a trend that might not even last."
Slowly, more voices echoed the same sentiment. Canary had tilted the balance.
Regina's confident smile faded slightly. Joel's jaw tightened.
Mrs. Daniels whispered something under her breath. Mr. Williams looked away, clearly displeased.
But the votes fell where the loyalty truly lay.
Canary had won.
Again — without a formal title. Without raising his voice. Just by being who he was.
As the meeting moved on, Joel remained quiet, eyes dark, the quiet sting of defeat settling deep in his chest.