For a moment, it felt like the room itself had stalled, as if the air-conditioning had cut out and left everyone breathing the same thick, stale pocket of disbelief. Then the murmurs started. Quiet at first. Careful. Almost polite. “That’s not funny.” Someone laughed—short, sharp, defensive. “Johnny? As in… that Johnny?” A few heads turned, not toward Mr. Silva, but toward Johnny. As if looking at him long enough might correct the mistake. It didn’t. “He doesn’t look like—” a woman near the glass wall began, then stopped herself, but it was too late. The thought had already landed. “He doesn’t look like a CEO,” someone else finished for her. The words carried more offense than disbelief. Johnny stood where he was. Hands relaxed at his sides. Jacket still rumpled from earlier. No effort made to straighten himself. No effort made to look like anything other than what he was. That, more than anything, seemed to enrage them. “I know him,” a man from Finance said, louder now. “

“She is my daughter,” Santiago continued, his voice steady, practiced, “and the Head of Operations. She will brief you on—” Johnny didn’t hear the rest. He couldn’t. Something about the way she stood rewired the rhythm of the room. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quieter than that—more dangerous. Her presence didn’t announce itself; it settled. Like gravity deciding where everything else belonged. Her gaze moved across the room with surgical precision. Executives. Board members. Guards. She catalogued them without expression, without hesitation. No fear. No curiosity. Just assessment. Then her eyes found him. It lasted a second. Maybe two. But in that thin slice of time, everything slowed. Johnny felt it before he understood it—a tightening in his chest, a strange mix of clarity and distraction. His thoughts sharpened and blurred at once, as if his mind couldn’t decide whether to focus or surrender. He noticed details he shouldn’t have. The line of her jaw. The

They were already moving when Lydia tapped her tablet. “Silvercrest is a diversified conglomerate,” she said, “with operations across twelve core businesses, organized under seven primary sectors.” Lydia walked beside Johnny as she spoke, her voice calm and precise, as if she were presenting to a board that hadn’t just watched its hierarchy collapse. The large display panels embedded along the corridor walls flickered to life. A clean diagram appeared. Silvercrest Holdings – Corporate Structure The first sector expanded across the screen as they passed. 1. Real Estate & Infrastructure “Luxury developments, commercial properties, and industrial estates across major metropolitan regions,” Lydia continued. “High asset value. Low liquidity.” Johnny glanced at the figures scrolling beneath the title. Long-term holds. Prestige projects. Capital locked in concrete and glass. Impressive, but slow. The display shifted as they reached the next stretch of hallway. 2. Energy & Resources

Emily’s screams were still hanging in the air, even though the doors had closed minutes ago. Not the sound itself—just the memory of it. The way it had cut off suddenly. The way security hadn’t hesitated. That was the part that stuck with them. Not the firing. The ease of it. People sat stiffly in their chairs now. Hands folded. Backs straight. Eyes forward. No phones. No whispers. No one daring to meet anyone else’s gaze, because doing that felt like aligning yourself with the wrong side. Johnny stood at the head of the table, silent. He didn’t need to say anything yet. Fear was doing the talking for him. He watched them carefully. The twitch of a jaw. The tightening of fingers around a pen. The shallow breathing of people who were used to controlling rooms, now reduced to waiting for permission to exist. This was what power looked like when it settled in. Then Johnny’s gaze stopped. Darren Cross. Darren noticed instantly. Everyone did. Darren Cross had always sat like h

The word sorry still hung in the air. It didn’t fade. It didn’t soften. It just stayed there, heavy, unfinished. Darren was still on his knees. His back straight. Too straight. Like he was holding himself together with tension alone. Johnny didn’t react right away. That was the worst part. The pause stretched long enough for people to start counting breaths without meaning to. One. Two. Three. Johnny stepped forward. Just one step. The sound of his shoe against the floor echoed louder than it should have. Darren’s eyes followed the movement without lifting his head. Another step. Johnny stopped right in front of him. Close. Close enough that Darren noticed things he shouldn’t have been noticing. Things he couldn’t even explain or understand himself. Johnny leaned down slightly. Not to help him. Not to lift him. Just enough to speak. “Look at you,” Johnny said in a quiet., low. It wasn’t for the for the room to hear, just for him. Darren’s jaw clenched. “You r