Ivy’s POV
The boardroom was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. But the tension in the air was suffocating as my assistant and I entered. The representatives from the family-owned company sat on the other side of the table, their expressions guarded.
Introductions were made, pleasantries exchanged, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. The patriarch of the family, a stern man with graying hair, barely spoke. His son did most of the talking, his words smooth but hollow, as if he were reading from a script.
I studied them, letting their words wash over me as I focused on their body language. The father’s hands were clenched tightly on the table, his knuckles white. The son avoided eye contact, his gaze darting to the door more than once.
And then it hit me—their fear. It wasn’t just discomfort or hesitation. They were afraid.