Alfonso remained rooted to his chair long after the boardroom had emptied. Grief was carved deep into the lines of his weathered face, each wrinkle a silent testament to regrets too heavy to speak. Only when the echo of the final closing door faded did he finally rise, slow and deliberate, and begin the quiet, heavy walk forward.
At the far end of the room, Hiraya stood poised beside Nathaniel, feigning attentiveness and taking notes on her iPad. But her eyes, sharp and perceptive, flickered occasionally to the old man approaching. From the corner of her gaze, she studied him—like someone watching the ghost of an era long buried, clawing its way back to relevance.
"Have all departmental managers assembled in the conference room," Nathaniel commanded, not sparing Alfonso a glance.
"Yes, sir," Hiraya replied with crisp efficiency.
"And schedule a lunch meeting with the Dublin investors. Tomorrow. Two o'clock sharp."
"Yes, sir."
"Ahem."
