The golden leaf on the ceiling of the Montgomery Estate seemed to catch the flickering afternoon light as Preston Montgomery surveyed the room with the practiced arrogance of a man who believed he had just checkmated fate itself. The heavy silence of the boardroom was thick, pressurized by the desperate financial state of the Montgomery Clan.
"Ladies and gentlemen, there is no need for this funereal silence," Preston declared, his voice cutting through the gloom like a polished blade. "The answer to our crisis isn't hidden in some complex audit. It’s sitting right in front of us. I have a contact—a man of immense liquidity and even greater influence—who is more than capable of absorbing our ten percent equity stake without flinching."
Dame Beatrice leaned forward, her fingers interlaced
