Kael's POV
The hotel's conference hall was windowless, gilded in excess, and suffocating with the smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke.
Five hours of negotiation, and every word had been a performance, one that ended, as always, with money shaking hands with ambition.
The politicians were courteous, polished, and predictable. They wanted access to XE's logistics arm, and in exchange they'd "consider" lowering trade tariffs on imported materials. It was theater. They needed us more than we needed them, but I'd learned a long time ago that the illusion of partnership kept wars quiet.
By the time the last document was signed, my patience was gone.
The moment I rose, the doors opened again.
And there he was.
My father.
My father walked in like he owned the air. The officials straightened at once, all eager smiles and reverent nods.
"Mr. Roman," one of them said, rising to shake his hand. "An honor to see you again."
