Thornevale HQ – Boardroom Level
The Next Day, 11:57 AM
Lyra was already seated at the long obsidian conference table, her tablet glowing softly with agenda notes.
Edgar hadn't said much that morning. Just a short line in passing: "Vale's punctual. We begin at twelve sharp."
He was right.
At 12:00 exactly, the glass doors opened.
Lucien Vale stepped into the room.
Tall. Refined. Tailored navy suit. Collar open just enough to suggest comfort, but not laziness. A watch too rare for the open market. Silver cufflinks. Dark eyes that did not blink often.
He walked like someone who always knew where the center of the room was—and rarely had to fight to be in it.
"Mr. Thornevale." His voice was smooth. "A pleasure."
"Mr. Vale," Edgar said, offering his hand across the table. No warmth, but no frost either. Just neutrality—worn like armor.
Lucien turned to Lyra next.
"And this would be your strategy lead, I assume," he said, eyes flicking to her without lingering. "Lyra D'Argent."
She rose, offered a hand. "Mr. Vale. Welcome."
"A pleasure," he said again.
He didn't smile wide. Didn't charm. Didn't do anything he didn't intend to.
They sat.
Arielle remained at the far end, silent, taking notes on her tablet. She didn't speak. She just watched. Sharp, assessing.
Lucien glanced once toward her. "Ms. Mercer. Always elegant."
She gave him a thin smile. "Still observant."
Business began.
Lucien moved like water.
He reviewed the Monaco development projections, asked a few clean questions—nothing piercing, but each of them exactly one step deeper than the usual investor fluff. He didn't dominate. He didn't flatter.
He navigated.
And in doing so, he learned.
But what unnerved Lyra wasn't what he asked.
It was what he didn't ask.
He never asked for Edgar's vision. Never challenged his numbers. Never probed her for her role in the pivot strategy.
He already knew.
She felt it.
Like being weighed without being touched.
Edgar's tone stayed cool throughout.
When Lucien closed the folder with a soft snap, he smiled—not wide, not cold.
Just… aware.
"Well," he said, rising slowly. "It's always good to meet the engine room in person. I'll give my office notice to proceed to phase two."
"We'll be ready," Edgar said.
Lucien nodded toward Lyra. "It's not often a strategy chief outruns legal. That's either brilliance—or something far more interesting."
Her smile was razor-thin. "We'll let the results speak."
His eyes flicked across her face. Brief. Nothing overt.
Then: "I look forward to them."
He left.
No tension in his gait. No signal of anything remembered.
But when the doors shut—
Edgar was still staring at the spot where he had stood.