He talked for two hours.
I listened to all of it. The full architecture of what he had been building inside the Drax company for six years, methodically and without anyone's knowledge, the documentation he had compiled, the legal pathways he had mapped, the careful, patient accumulation of evidence against a man who had taught him everything he knew about how power protects itself. He talked about Victor with the specific, controlled grief of someone describing a structure they had lived inside for so long that dismantling it felt less like justice and more like surgery on themselves.
I did not interrupt. I had learned that Lucien, when he finally talked without a managed version, needed the space to do it without being redirected. He was not, by nature or habit, a man who opened rooms i
