It was actually a $2,000 Montblanc designed with understated elegance.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Comfort?" Webb laughed. "This is Thornfield Industries, not your college dorm room."
The CFO emerged from an adjacent office and took one look at Angela.
"What's this commotion? Are we dealing with campus activists?"
5 minutes until the vote.
Angela adjusted her watch.
The leather strap was worn and comfortable, but when the light caught it just right, there was a glimpse of Swiss movement through the transparent case back.
Patek Philippe.
More expensive than most people's cars.
Again, they didn't notice.
She activated a number using voice command.
"Call Protocol Seven."
The phone responded in crisp digital audio.
"Calling Legal Priority One. Crimson Eagle authorization."
The boardroom fell silent.
Even the security guards paused.
"What the hell is Crimson Eagle?" Hawthorne muttered.
Angela didn't answer.
She was typing on her phone now.
Not frantically.
Methodically.
Like she was following a checklist she'd rehearsed a hundred times.
3 minutes until the Henderson vote.
$340 million in annual revenue hung in the balance.
But something else was happening here.
Something none of these men understood yet.
"Ma'am, you need to come with us."
The security chief appeared in the doorway.
Two guards flanked him.
"This is a restricted area, and frankly, you're not dressed appropriately for this floor."
Eight board members were now standing.
Angela remained seated at the head of the table.
The chairman's seat.
She looked like a graduate student who had wandered into the wrong lecture hall.
But she wasn't moving.
"I'll need each of your names for the record," she said calmly. "And your employee ID numbers."
"Names for what record?" Hawthorne demanded.
Angela's phone screen showed multiple notifications.
But these weren't random alerts.
They were communications from people these board members would recognize.
Senior government officials.
Federal judges.
Fortune 500 CEOs.
She declined a call from Senator Williams's private line.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I need to ask you something important."
She stood slowly.
The simple turtleneck moved like expensive silk because it was expensive silk, custom woven.
But they still saw student clothes.
"In your 15 years as chairman, have you ever read the complete corporate charter? Section 12, subsection C specifically?"
The legal counsel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"What charter provision?"
Hawthorne's voice cracked slightly.
"The provision regarding hostile takeovers and emergency protocols for ownership transitions."
Angela placed a single document on the table, pulled from her simple notebook.
The paper bore embossed legal letterhead.
Expensive.
Official.
"This is a Schedule 13D filing submitted to the Securities and Exchange Commission at 9:47 a.m. this morning."
1 minute until the scheduled vote.
"It concerns a controlling-interest acquisition of Thornfield Industries."
The silence was deafening.
The boardroom transformed into a theater of humiliation.
Security guards blocked the exits.
Executive assistants whispered into headsets.
The CFO called for additional support.
"We have a casually dressed intruder in the boardroom," an assistant reported, requesting more security.
Angela remained calm.