Target Round Table นิยาย & เรื่องราว

And a final investor roundtable where Argent Global Capital’s strategic direction would be discussed. Emily tapped the screen thoughtfully. “That’s where it happens.” Thomas leaned forward. “The roundtable?” “Yes.” Serena sat quietly near the rear of the cabin, listening to the conversation without interrupting. Richard sat beside her, gazing out the opposite window. After a few moments he spoke softly. “Victor has probably anticipated this.” Emily looked up. “I’m sure he has.” Serena nodded slightly. “Which means the summit won’t just be about reassuring investors.” Sofia frowned.

The lobby of the SoHo event space buzzed with quiet energy—the kind that belonged to people who didn’t need to shout to matter. The tech roundtable was tucked behind velvet partitions and glass signage etched in minimalist serif fonts. “Cognitive Horizons in Emerging Tech.” It sounded exactly like the kind of thing Julian Cross would attend with perfect posture and a pocket square designed to say power, but humble. Celeste stepped up to the registration table with a warm smile she didn’t actually feel.

For her? She slightly shook her head. She must be overreacting. Whatever happened, she would just let the moon handle it. “For the procedure that would take place. We would like to ask all the top six candidates who made it to this round to move towards the center of the arena for a short draw lot that will decide who would be your opponent.” Arlan explained with that stoic expression visibly written on his face. Tamara bit her lower lip. She was indeed shaking with mixed anxiety and frustration. But she was desperate to win this round and she would use that to move on with the final round.

Andrew's POV I sat at the round table in the private room of one of the city’s upscale restaurants, surrounded by four men, each representing their own companies. We’d come together to discuss the thorn in all of our sides—the Lyons Group. As I took a sip of my coffee, I kept my tone calm but firm.

It was where the Iron Law was forged in arrogance and enforced by fear. Today, we were replacing the iron with parchment. In the center of the room sat the Round Table—a massive slab of salvaged steel, scarred with weld marks and blast burns. It was ugly. It was functional. And around it sat a collection of beings that, a month ago, would have slaughtered each other on sight. To my left stood Rax, leaning on a scavenged rifle, representing the Nulls and the Dregs. Beside him, the scarred Sand-Eater Alpha represented the Rogue Clans, his yellow eyes darting suspiciously around the room.

"Simple rules. We go around the circle. Lowest draw takes a shot. No exceptions." "Barbaric," Priya said, but she was already moving to join the circle. The group rearranged themselves around the coffee table. Julian dealt with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before. The first round passed without incident Derek drew low and downed his shot with theatrical suffering. The second round went to Priya, who grimaced but drank. The third round went to Vanessa. She stared at her card with an expression of exaggerated dismay. "Oh, no. I can't."

--Alyssa-- "Please, you are to move to that table," the guy called Richie said to us. The table Richie directed us to was positioned at the head of the room, a spot that commanded attention and significance. It was a round table with five chairs arranged neatly around it, each chair upholstered in luxurious fabric. The table itself was covered with a pristine white cloth, adorned with a centerpiece of fresh flowers that added a touch of elegance to the setting.

A startled voice called out tentatively, "Director Laurie, is that you? You got the message too?" Dorector Laurie blinked in surprise at his name, and as his vision focused, he was shocked to see that the occupants of the seats of the round table were the rest top members of Romero's board of Directors.

So, I force myself to look away. "Please, everyone, take a seat," Alpha Remington starts and points at the ostentatious round table in the middle of the hall, his voice strong and confident. I feel the complete opposite as I take a seat at the table, while River stands behind me, like the rest of the Betas.

*Ronan* The mahogany table in front of me seemed to stretch on for miles, a polished desert of corporate boredom. And around it sat twelve of the most powerful board members in the Graves conglomerate, their voices a dull, buzzing hum in the background. They were talking about quarterly dividends, overseas acquisitions, and the fluctuating price of steel. I didn't care.