The air in the boardroom was colder than the polished table at its center. Lucian sat with his files neatly arranged before him, shoulders squared, gaze steady. Around him, the directors filtered in one by one, their murmurs soft but cutting.
"Why call him back to meetings?"
"He's a liability."
"Mr.Blackwell the only reason he still has a seat."
Lucian ignored them. His pen tapped once against the folder, his expression unreadable.
Edward entered last, his presence silencing the whispers. He took his place at the head of the table, Clara at his right. Lucian caught the flicker of disapproval in her eyes, though her lips curved in the faintest, professional smile.
The meeting began. Numbers flashed across the screen, charts, projections. For a while, Lucian only listened, absorbing. His memory of the company's past work surfaced, blending with the knowledge he carried from his own world. The picture sharpened in his mind.
Finally, a director cleared his throat. "We can't keep delaying the foreign accounts issue. Edward, your position alone can't stall them forever. The shareholders are restless."
Clara's gaze slid toward Lucian, pointed and sharp. "Perhaps my brother would like to contribute. He's been rather… quiet."
A ripple of amusement passed through the room.
Lucian didn't flinch. He opened one of his files, flipping to a marked page. "The accounts in question are tied to three regions. Pulling out too quickly would trigger penalties from existing contracts, but stalling too long will only deepen the losses. The solution is neither retreat nor blind expansion."
His voice was calm, measured. He tapped the report. "Negotiate partial restructuring. Redirect capital into the mid-level accounts—they're underperforming due to mismanagement, not market weakness. Strengthen those, and we'll stabilize cash flow without exposing ourselves further."
Silence followed.
The directors exchanged glances. It was precise. Rational. Exactly the kind of analysis they hadn't heard from him in years.
Clara's brows furrowed ever so slightly. She recovered quickly, her tone cool. "That's easy to say on paper. Who will handle these negotiations? Certainly not you, after the last time."
Lucian met her gaze steadily. "If you want results, I'll take responsibility. Put the task under me."
Gasps rippled faintly around the table.
Edward's expression remained unreadable, though his fingers tapped once against the armrest. Finally, he spoke. "Very well. You'll prepare a proposal within the week. If it's not satisfactory, Clara will assume control instead."
The gavel of his voice closed the matter.
Lucian inclined his head. "Understood."
The meeting moved on, but the atmosphere had shifted. The board wasn't convinced—not yet. But they were no longer laughing either.
When the session adjourned, Clara brushed past him, her words sharp enough for only him to hear. "One week. Don't think this will end like your little speeches at home. If you fail, there won't be another chance."
Lucian let her go, his jaw set. His body ached, his liver still throbbed faintly from the doctor's warning, but his mind was sharper than it had been in years. And for the first time, he felt it: the faintest edge of momentum.