The boardroom emptied in waves. First the older executives, muttering under their breath. Then the younger ones, phones already pressed to their ears.

I stayed by the wall, watching Lucien.

He stood still at the head of the table like a statue carved out of exhaustion, hands braced against the polished wood, staring at the empty chairs.

For the first time ever, he couldn't own the room.

He'd called it an acceptable risk. One hundred per million. Like those hundred lives didn't matter because ...