The boardroom was a war chamber dressed in polished wood and glass. Twelve men and women sat along the oval table, their suits pressed, their smiles tight, each one pretending they weren't already calculating which side to stand on if the empire split between Andrew and I.
I slid into the head seat, my presence enough to silence the room. Niko stood behind me, a quiet shadow, his eyes scanning every movement.
"Mr. Roman," one of the directors began, adjusting his tie nervously. "We'll open with quarterly performance. As you know, Q2 reported an eight percent dip in the energy subsidiary due to regulatory delays. Investors are restless, especially with the European expansion—"
"Cut them out," I said flatly.
The man blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Energy. Europe. Dead weight. Sell the contracts, pivot the assets into bio-infrastructure. The regulators won't stop clawing, so stop feeding them."
