At Marston & Co.
The conference room was heavy with silence. Theodore Marston tried to sit tall at the head of the table, but the presence of Henry Laurent and Alaric Lancaster stripped him of that comfort.
Two men who didn't waste words, two men he had never wanted to face together, sat there like they owned everything.
"The articles were harmless," Theodore's lawyer began, a thin smile plastered on his face. "We only highlighted the floral art centerpiece. If the media emphasized Ms. Laurent's name, that is hardly our fault."
Henry chuckled. The sound wasn't warm, it sliced through the air. "Are you teaching me how the media works, Mr. Marston? I've watched headlines built and destroyed before you even stepped into this game."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, unreadable, his voice quiet but unyielding. "Headlines don't write themselves. Someone fed them. Was it you?"
