We were the only company that ran with a skeleton leadership crew. The only company where the leaders acted in a management role more than as mentors and figureheads. And the only company who’d caved to the whims of its original owner. That part I left unsaid. It would be obvious.

That original owner had pinched features and pursed lips. Her skin was tinged red.

I exchanged a look with Dad.

Grams was pissed.

Calvin, a longtime acquaintance of Grams and a board member who often followed her lead, tapped his pen. “What, exactly, are you asking for?”

For fuck’s sake. “We want to restructure the company.”

“And you told the world?” Grams snapped.

Ah hell. I’d plowed into my information gathering in order to be armed to the teeth against Grams’s rebuttals, and I’d forgotten that I’d committed the unholiest sin of all.

I’d leaked our business.

Every other oil company was competition in Grams’s eyes. She didn’t believe in colleagues or camaraderie outside of King Oil. She’d grown up in a kill-or-be-eaten world. Business was cutthroat and those who slashed first stayed alive.

It was why the company had had to be restructured when Dad took over as CEO. He’d had a good reputation and so his last name had been plastered all over while Grams’s had been moved to the background.

“I discussed leadership styles with them, yes,” I answered evenly. “We didn’t discuss business otherwise.”

“Yet what are they going to think? King Oil is crumbling from the inside out.”

Dad spoke up. “It’s not unusual for companies to restructure.” He gave Grams a knowing look. “I’m not talking about changing out people, but changing processes.”

Her eyes narrowed. Calling her out like that in front of the other four board members hadn’t been a good idea. But the point had to be made.

Calvin tapped his pen. He did it every time he wanted to talk. The man had programmed us well. When that damn pen tapped, we shut up and waited for him to speak. “Do you think this is a good time for upheaval? Our wells in western North Dakota and eastern Montana are running at a quarter of what they were ten years ago.”

“That would make it an ideal time,” Kendall said as if Calvin had unknowingly answered the question himself. “When things in the field are quieter, we have more flexibility.”

Grams pounced on Kendall before she could continue. “If you’re so flexible, then why the need for restructuring?”

“Emilia.” Dad folded his hands. “We’re running the inner office with one more person than you and DB had when you started with a few wells on Cartwright land.” It’d been Dad, Grams, and DB. Dad and I had Kendall and Phillip.