The name arrives on a Tuesday morning, tucked between a quarterly earnings report and a lunch invitation from a business associate I've never met. Lucas is reviewing my schedule with his usual meticulous precision, his tablet in hand and his posture perfect, when he pauses mid-sentence and stares at the screen like it has personally offended him.
"What is it?" I ask, looking up from my coffee. Oat milk latte with an extra shot and light foam, because Lucas has been making it exactly that way for six years and I've finally learned to appreciate perfection.
"There is a visitor requesting a meeting with you this afternoon," he says, his voice carefully neutral in that way that means he's trying very hard not to react to something. "A Mr. Alexander Vane."
