The boardroom smelled like ozone and expensive cologne. Damon stood at the window with his back to the room, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. Outside, October rain streaked down the glass, turning the city into a smear of gray and amber.His head of PR, Margot, was still talking. He'd stopped listening three minutes ago."She's not answering calls, sir. Her team confirmed she saw the article. We need a statement from you or from her before the five o'clock news cycle—""Get the cameras."Margot stopped. "Sir?""The press room. Thirty minutes. Have the networks dial in." He turned from the window. His face was unreadable. "I'll handle it.""Sir, with respect, you can't just—I don't know what you're planning, but if you say the wrong thing, this could escalate into—""I said I'll handle it."Margot closed her mouth. She'd worked for him for seven years. She knew that tone.He walked past her without another word.---The press room smelled like stale coffee and nervo
Last Updated : 2026-06-03
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