Chapter 35 The Fake Emergency
The conference room shimmered with tension. Silas stood at the head of the long glass table, his tailored navy suit hugging the lean frame that commanded attention without needing to speak. His tone was measured, clipped, as he addressed the international board, backdropped by a projection of quarterly projections and future acquisitions. Heads nodded, pens scratched, decisions were being shaped, until the door slammed open.
Gasps broke the air. Rosalind.
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