The boardroom buzzed with tension.
Kingsley stood at the head of the long polished table, twenty faces staring at him — some skeptical, some angry, some calculating.
Kingsley sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his fingers steepled under his chin, his sharp blue eyes flicking over the faces of the board members.
To his left, Michael Rowe — his father — sat with his arms crossed, jaw tight. To his right, Anna Rowe watched him anxiously, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Across the table, the board members whispered among themselves. Men and women in expensive suits, some old, some young, all staring at Kingsley with thinly veiled doubt.
"Let's begin," Kingsley said, his voice steady.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, one of the senior board members — an older man with
