The boardroom smelled like polished glass and tension.
Ten executives sat around the oval table, each with carefully neutral expressions, and Wolfe at the head—impossibly still, eyes unreadable. Evelyn stood behind him, not as an assistant, but as a signal. He wasn't alone. Not anymore.
Rhys Kellan sat opposite. Clean-cut. Cold smile. Wearing a navy suit like it was armor.
"Let's not pretend," Rhys said, his voice smooth. "I didn't come to ask for my seat back. I came to remind you who built this tower with you."
Wolfe didn't blink. "You walked away from the company. The board ratified it."
"And yet," Rhys said, pulling a document from his briefcase, "a clause remains. Hidden in our original founding charter. If Wolfe Global's projected growth model drops by more than eight percent within a fiscal quarter… the founding partners must reconvene. Together."
Evelyn stepped forward. "You rigged a leak. Damaged investor confidence. Sabotaged your own legacy—just to invoke a clause no one's used in over a decade?"
Rhys smiled at her. "You must be Evelyn. I see why Alexander kept you close. Sharp tongue. Sharper instincts."
She didn't flinch. "You're burning the tower down because you're not on the top floor anymore."
"Careful," he warned. "I've survived worse than ambition."
Wolfe tapped the table. "Enough. You've made your play. The board will vote—whether you return, or this meeting ends permanently."
Gasps fluttered across the table.
"You don't have the votes," Rhys said, coolly.
Wolfe's jaw tightened. "We'll see."
He stood.
"Board will reconvene tomorrow. Evelyn, with me."
---
In the elevator, Wolfe was silent. But she could feel it.
Not fear.
Rage.
"He's not here to return," Evelyn said. "He's here to ruin you."
"No," Wolfe said quietly. "He's here to remind me what I used to be. Before the tower. Before the rules."
She studied him. "And what were you?"
He looked at her.
"A wolf."
The doors opened, and the game—no, the war—moved forward another step.
Tomorrow, blood would spill.
And only one Wolfe would survive it.