The conference room of Glorious International hummed with low voices as the board members filtered in, one by one, settling into their leather chairs. Laptops clicked open, papers were shuffled, coffee cups were placed neatly beside notepads—but the real attention in the room wasn't on the agenda.
It was on Hugo.
Whispers followed him like shadows.
He sat at the far end of the table, back straight, expression calm, fingers loosely interlocked as if he had every right to be there. But the glances thrown his way were anything but polite.
"What is he doing here?" one of the senior board members muttered, not bothering to lower his voice. "After losing the project at the last moment, I thought he'd have the decency to cut ties with the Claffords."
Another man scoffed softly. "Decency? You're expecting too much. I didn't know he was this thick-skinned. No shame at all. Maybe he still thinks Daniel will come running to save him."
A few quiet laughs rippled across the table.
