The annual shareholder meeting. Julian's coronation day.
He'd spent months lining up his pieces like dominoes, ready to topple Sterling with crushing finality. The Prescott Group auditorium buzzed with the energy of vultures circling wounded prey—two hundred shareholders, board members, and media representatives packed into the marble-lined space that had witnessed a century of corporate bloodshed.
Julian commanded the stage like he was born for this moment. His silver hair caught the overhead lights just right, lending him an air of distinguished authority. The navy Armani suit fit him perfectly—every inch the successful businessman, the responsible steward, ready to guide the company into a glorious future.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his practiced baritone carried effortlessly through th
