The executive floor of Marlowe Industries was usually a place of measured calm, where power was exerted through whispers and spreadsheets. On Wednesday morning, less than four hours after the anniversary gala dissolved into chaos, the atmosphere was thick with desperation. The emergency board meeting was called for 7:00 AM, but the boardroom was filled by 6:30 AM.
The massive, highly polished mahogany table, designed to seat twenty, now felt like a life raft in a turbulent sea. Eleven board members, dressed in suits that suddenly looked less invincible, sat around the table, their faces pale and their eyes glued to the real-time stock ticker projected onto the far wall. The ticker showed the nightmare: MRLW -41.2%.
Magnus Marlowe sat at the head
