The boardroom didn't just fall silent when I entered, it felt like the air itself got pulled out of the room. Conversations stopped mid-breath. Pens froze above paper. Even the small, unconscious movements people make when they think they're unnoticed went still.
It was a room built to decide fates. Cold glass. Heavy mahogany. A place where investments are being discussed.
At the head of the table, my father stood like he had been waiting for me to arrive so he could finish something he started long ago.
He didn't move when I stepped in.
Didn't react.
Didn't even blink.
Just looked at me like I was already a problem he had solved.
"You're late," he said.
No warmth in it. No recognition. Just a flat, reserved edge, like I was an error in his schedule.
I kept walking.
