The Apex Capital boardroom was on the 88th floor. It wasn't designed for comfort; it was engineered for intimidation. A single slab of black marble, polished to a mirror finish, served as the table. The chairs were ergonomic masterpieces of chrome and leather that felt like thrones. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a god's-eye view of the city, a sprawling circuit board of ambition and failure. This room was a place where companies were born or buried, and the air itself was cold, sterile, and expensive.
I sat at the head of the table. Not in my old spot at Julian’s side, taking notes, but in the chairman’s seat. My father’s seat.
He was late. Of course, he was. A pathetic power play from a man who had no power left.
When the heavy glass doors finally swept open, he didn’t stride in
