CASSIAN
The conference room reeked of old money and older grudges.
I sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled, watching the man across from me drone on about "legacy" and "family heritage" like those words meant something to me.
Gerald Cho. Mid-sixties. Owned a prime piece of waterfront property in the city's financial district that XUM had been trying to acquire for the better part of two years. My father had tried the diplomatic approach... generous offers, compromises, appeals to reason. My brother Preston had tried charm and negotiation.
Both had failed.
So naturally, they'd sent me.
"You have to understand, Mr. Wolfe," Gerald was saying, gesturing expansively with his hands, "this land has been in my family for three generations. My grandfather built his first business there. My father expanded it. I grew up playing in those streets. You can't put a price on history."
I said nothing.
Just watched him.
