THE BOARD'S POV (THIRD PERSON)
While the world watched the flickering red numbers cascading down financial terminals, the men who truly owned those numbers gathered in silence beneath a quiet street in Mayfair.
The townhouse above them was an unremarkable cream stone façade, a polished brass door knocker, and a small balcony where window boxes overflowed with carefully tended lavender. Tourists walked past it every day without a second glance. A discreet brass plaque beside the door listed a boutique legal firm that technically existed, though no clients had ever actually entered the building. Below it, forty feet underground, was where the real business of the world happened.
