Page 20 of Under Construction

His gaze finds Jerry from electrical, then Zhang from structural, holding each man's stare until they nod back. He sweeps his eyes across the room, connecting with more of his team—Jim, Rodrigo, Kaito—until he feels the energy in the room shift.

"Sustainable. Innovative." He glances up and catches Chris already watching him, something certain and intent in his expression. "Unlike anything else in this city."

The machinery noise outside seems louder in the silence that follows. Someone's coffee cup hits a surface with a nervous clink.

"This means going against Kim Industries," Jason points out. "Against your father."

"Yes." Dennis’s voice doesn't waver.

"You could lose everything."

"Yes." His grip on the table tightens.

The air conditioner rattles. A drill whines somewhere outside. No one moves.

Then Chris straightens up, safety vest crinkling as he pushes off the wall. "Fuck it, I'm in."

"What?" Jason gapes at him.

"You heard the princess." Chris steps forward, the crowd parting for him like water. His grin has an edge Dennis has never seen before—like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. "We're building something different."

He sweeps his gaze around the room, and his crew instantly look up, their attention snapping to him as if drawn by gravity, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. "Let's fucking go!"

The mood in the room transforms. Murmurs ripple through the crowd, low and buzzing, people leaning toward each other, nodding and exchanging words.

Those who hadn't already committed straighten up, sharing glances as they weigh the shift in momentum. One by one, they nod. Agree.

Dennis finds his eyes drawn to Chris. To the way he's looking at him like he's actually seeing him for the first time. Like maybe he's not just the spoiled heir to Kim Industries after all.

Voices get louder. There’s a laugh. An exclamation. The room feels alive now, humming with quiet energy and purpose.

Then Chris is looking down at his phone, thumbs flying across the screen while that infuriating grin spreads across his face. The fluorescent lights carve sharp shadows along his jaw and cheekbones, accentuating the rugged lines of his face

Dennis’s own phone buzzes against his thigh.

"Alright, let's get back to work." His voice carries easily through the chatter.

The crew meander out, some still discussing the meeting, each worker meeting his eyes as they pass, some with nods, others with small smiles—different from their usual quick exits. Even Jerry, who's been working sites longer than Dennis has been alive, claps him once on the shoulder before heading out.

He waits until the last worker files out, until the shuffle of boots and murmur of voices fades down the hall, before he checks it.

New number.

Drinks later? To celebrate our rebellion?

Dennis looks up. Chris is still lingering by the door, phone dangling from his fingers, dimples on full display. He looks like he’s watching for Dennis’s reaction.

Dennis rolls his eyes. Types back anyway because apparently they have a textual relationship now.

How many phones do you own?

Chris's laugh echoes across the office, rich and warm. "Really princess?"

"Really." But Dennis is fighting back a smile with his bottom lip between his teeth and they both know it.

Chris’s head bows down, then:

Bzzz.

---