The hall was glowing with chandeliers, tension, perfume, and ambition. Every contestant stood straighter the moment the three Titans took their seats, their suits sharp, their expressions unreadable, their presence swallowing the room whole.
The Master of Ceremony cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he held the microphone with slight tremor.
“Um… n-now the contestants will proceed to pitch their, uh… their f-ferryman—”
He didn’t even finish.
Dominic stood up.
Not slowly. Not politely. He rose with the confidence of a man who never needed permission to speak.
“There is no need for all of that,” he said, voice smooth and final. “We already know who we want to invest with.”
The Master of Ceremony blinked rapidly, unsure if this was one of Dominic’s playful moods. He forced a n
