AUTHOR
The air in the Rimestone Co. boardroom was thick and stale, smelling of expensive coffee, polished mahogany, and cold fear. The long, gleaming table was a battlefield, and the soldiers—executives and minor shareholders—sat stiffly in their leather thrones, their faces masks of practiced concern.
At the head of this dying empire sat Shunsuke Rimestone.
He was remarkably composed, a statue of cold authority in a custom Kiton suit. But beneath the surface, a volcano of rage was brewing. His company, his life's work, was bleeding out, its value draining away by the hour.
And he knew exactly who was holding the knife: that gardener's son, Reomen Daki, and his own treacherous daughter. The thought was a poison in his veins.
