Lucian had stopped believing in accidents.Not in the harmless sense people liked to assign to bad timing or coincidence, but in the deeper sense—where every outcome had a source, every silence had a cause, and every collapse had a hand behind it.Nothing in his world simply happened.It was either arranged, allowed or overlooked long enough to become inevitable.By Monday morning, that belief had settled into him so firmly it almost felt like instinct.The city outside Moretti Industries was already awake, already moving, already pretending nothing beneath its surface was shifting. But inside Lucian’s office, the air felt different. Not tense in an obvious way, but weighted, as if the building itself understood it was standing on the edge of something unstable.He stood by the window long before anyone arrived, watching traffic move like it had somewhere honest to be.Matteo’s scheduled “private leadership discussion” was no longer just a rumor.It was real.And worse, it was no long
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