The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with a tension that was almost tangible. I stood frozen, clutching the pen and the ring as if they were lifelines. Christian Armstrong, the billionaire whose name commanded respect and fear in equal measure, was breaking down before my eyes.
“What do you mean?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The confidence I had always imagined myself possessing in moments of significance was nowhere to be found.
He took a deep breath, composing himself with visible effort. “Colin Pierce,” he said, almost reverentially. “He wasn’t just a friend; he was like a brother to me. We started out together, you know, before all of this.” His hand waved vaguely, encompassing the world he had built, the empire he controlled.
