The tension around the table eased, though no one outright conceded to Rex. Instead, the conversation shifted, as though they were circling him, probing deeper. It wasn't just about one point anymore. They wanted to test him, peel him back, see what lay underneath.
Uncle Robert, the banker with the sharp eyes, leaned forward. "Fine. Let's assume you're right about workers needing stability. That's a company problem. What about the world stage? You think nations should treat people the same way? Feed them first, then dream later?"
Rex didn't miss a beat. "Exactly. A hungry country doesn't care about democracy, freedom, or whatever slogans the powerful like to preach. You want stability in a nation? Make sure people eat, make sure they work, make sure they have roofs over their heads. Otherwise, no speech, no 'vision,' is worth a dime."
There was a ripple of quiet amusement at the bluntness.
