Chapter 177

• ROWEN
• The double doors of the boardroom creaked open with a deliberate slowness, their weight groaning on the hinges like a warning. I stepped in first, my polished black oxfords hitting the gleaming marble floor like calculated gunfire. Every head turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. The air thickened to syrup, stretched tight with expectation.
• Elora walked beside me, poised, silent, her steps steady and precise. She wore a fitted black pant and a soft ivory blouse tucked neatly at the waist, the fabric hugging her silhouette with refined modesty. Her dark curls were pulled into a low bun, exposing her slender neck and the delicate gold chain that shimmered beneath the collar. Nothing provocative—yet her presence beside me wasn’t lost on the room.