Adrian’s POV
The conference room glass walls hummed with the low buzz of Manhattan’s skyline behind me, late afternoon sun cutting sharp angles across the polished mahogany table. I leaned back in the leather chair at the head, flipping through the quarterly reports—shipments up 18% in Europe,
margins tight but holding on the new watch line. Enzo’s numbers from Sicily were gold as always, and I scribbled a quick note in the margin about pushing the vintage Rolex batch harder next quarter.
Focus was my armor today; meetings like this kept the empire ticking, and after last night’s makeup fire with Elena, I needed the distraction to burn off the lingering high.
The door swung open without a knock—classic power move. I glanced up, and there he was: Charles Knight, my father, striding in
