The executives rose from their seats one by one and began to get out of the room. No one dared speak since Mikhail's permission to speak was absolute as without it none were allowed to even utter a word.
But as everyone was leaving, one man remained behind. It was Prestor who stayed seated with his head bowed low.
He trembled with rage, his fingers tightly interlocked. The blood rushed in his ears not out of fear, but fury, it was infuriating that they had been instructed not to retaliate against their enemies.
The Baron had infringed upon their business, and to Prestor who was Mikhail's own nephew, that was unforgivable.
All his life, he had been drilled on the sanctity of their family operations, how vital it was to protect what they built. So hearing the family patriarch decide to let the culprit go was more than infuriating, he felt like it was some kind of betrayal.
