KIMANI
We sat, and soon the servers brought out our meals — steak, roasted vegetables, and fine wine that shimmered in the low golden light of the private room. Conversation flowed easily, a rhythm that surprised even me. Dad asked Alaric about the company — the current expansion projects, market trends, and the usual “grown-up talk” that I half-understood but always found fascinating when my dad was involved.
Alaric answered with that composed professionalism he carried like a second skin — calm, confident, articulate. Yet, there was something gentler in his tone tonight, a warmth beneath the usual cool exterior. It was obvious he was trying to make a good impression, and even my father noticed.
Halfway through dinner, Dad leaned back with a knowing smile, sipping his wine. “I must ad
