Page 81 of Till Orc Do Us Part
The doors slide open on a muted chime.
The executive floor breathes cold and sterile. High glass walls throw back fractured reflections of the boardroom beyond. Black marble floors gleam beneath harsh white lights. The scent ofleather, steel, and faint citrus lingers in the air—too clean. Too empty.
I walk with purpose.
Each step echoes beneath the silent gaze of the staff who remain—assistants, aides, all schooled in stillness, though I catch flickers of curiosity in their eyes.
They know something is coming.
Ilyana stands outside the boardroom doors, arms folded, jaw tight.
“You understand what they will say,” she murmurs.
I incline my head. “I do.”
Her gaze sharpens. “You will be alone in that room.”
“No,” I say quietly. “Not alone.”
Her brow lifts.
I press the portfolio to my side and step past her.
The doors open at her gesture—silent and smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath.
The boardroom gleams beneath ceiling-suspended light. An obsidian table stretches long and cold, ringed by leather chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the storm-churned skyline beyond—lightning flickering faint behind sheets of rain.
The room smells of money, cold ambition, and polished power.
Six faces turn as I enter.
Malkor Veyne, seated with fingers steepled.
Anna Quill, her sharp eyes already weighing me.
The others—figures who have watched my rise and now hope to chart my fall.
I take my seat at the head of the table.
The leather is cool beneath my palms.
Anna wastes no time. “You requested this meeting.”
Malkor smirks. “We assume you intend to waste more of our time.”
I unfasten the portfolio. Slide the revised blueprints across the table—one set for each member.
“The revised vision for Lowtide Bluffs,” I say evenly. “A sustainable plan—honoring community legacy, ensuring long-term brand equity, and stabilizing revenue through diversified engagement.”
Anna flips through the pages, brow arching.
“Artisan stalls,” she reads aloud. “Preservation corridors. Sightline restrictions.”
Malkor leans back with a scoff. “You’re proposing we throw away millions.”
I meet his gaze without flinching. “I propose we build something that endures.”
He snorts. “Endures? Nostalgia fades.”
