~MAX’S POV~The boardroom of Dickson Enterprise has always been a place of controlled power—polished mahogany table, leather chairs aligned with military precision, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city that once bowed to the company's influence. That morning, however, the air was thick with tension, as though the walls themselves remembered too much.One by one, the board members filed in.Charles Dickson, my father, sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid, expression unreadable. Besides him sat Martha Dickson, composed as ever, hands folded neatly, eyes sharp and observant. Around the table were the men and women who helped shape Dickson Enterprise into a titan—investors, legal advisers, senior managers and directors all carrying their own agendas beneath polite nods and murmured greetings.One seat conspicuously empty drew quiet attention.Ryder's seat.A few glances exchanged. No one asked aloud, but the absence spoke loudly.The door opened again.I stepped in. An
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