Adrian pov
The boardroom smells like anticipation disguised as professionalism.
Glass walls. Steel edges. Twenty-three seats around a table designed to remind everyone exactly how small they are compared to the company they serve.
Hale Global Headquarters.
The battlefield Marcus still believes belongs to him.
I arrive ten minutes early.
Power never rushes.
Executives rise automatically as I enter. Some out of respect. Some out of fear. Mostly because markets have already begun choosing sides for them.
Screens along the wall display live financial feeds. Hale stock flickers in restless movement, reacting to rumors no one officially confirms.
War rarely announces itself. It leaks.
I take my seat without greeting anyone.
Across the table sits Marcus Hale.
He looks tired.
Not phy
