Julian had barely opened his mouth to make his opening speech when the double doors to the boardroom swung open with force.
Every head turned.
The slapping of cane on the tiles pierced Julian's ears, going straight for his heart.
The air stiffened with tension.
In walked Lord Alistair Hawthorne.
The silence that followed wasn’t out of courtesy. It was rife with discomfort.
Richard adjusted the cuffs of his dark navy suit, his presence demanding attention as he strolled to the end of the table like he owned it.
Because once, he had. And in many ways, he still believed he did.
"How generous of you all to start without me," he said coolly, eyes on Julian.
Julian rose from his seat, jaw clenched. His father barging in was one thing. Demanding a seat at the table was another.
"You’re
