The penthouse elevator opened directly into the conference floor below—Cyrus's private business wing turned executive suite. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Mahogany paneling. A view that stared down half the city and dared it to look back.
Lucas walked in freshly dressed—pressed white shirt, dark slacks, no tie. Clean. Direct. Very "I didn't sleep with a political bombshell last night, thank you."
ATHENA's voice greeted him before anyone else."Welcome, CEO. Your blood pressure is within target range. Cortisol baseline remains low. Today's primary directive: visibility without vulnerability."
Rhea was already seated at the long table, coffee in hand, tablet glowing.
"Sit," she said. "Eat. Pretend you slept."
Julius strolled in a beat later, in workout gear, balancing a protein shake and a smug smile. "He didn't sleep. I heard the weights crying."
Lucas poured himself black coffee. "That's just me bench-pressing your ego."
Julius grinned. "Spoken like a CEO."
Rhea flipped her screen toward Lucas. "Quick brief. PR's stabilized after the Samir headline. You took control of the narrative, we ran follow-ups through Tier 1 and 2 press, and social media's eating out of your hand."
She swiped again. "Now comes the next phase: you're public-facing. No more 'reluctant heir.' From this point forward, you're shaping culture."
Lucas leaned back. "That means what, exactly?"
Julius stepped in. "It means you need to let me film you working out."
Lucas blinked. "What?"
"TikTok. Reels. Shorts. Doesn't matter. We soft-launch a series—daily routines, workouts, the 'discipline behind the dynasty' vibe. Give them muscle, sweat, and perfect lighting. You'll own every algorithm by Thursday."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You want me to become a thirst trap for shareholders?"
Julius didn't blink. "Do you know how many women are quietly forming book clubs to talk about how you didn't sleep with models or celebrities? Do you know what they want next? More footage. Preferably shirtless."
Rhea didn't even look up. "He's not wrong."
ATHENA cut in crisply."Engagement prediction model confirms. A structured fitness micro-series would increase Gen Z visibility by 39%, cross-market appeal by 17%. Sponsorship interest likely within ten days."
Lucas sighed. "We're branding me like I'm the bachelor, not the boss."
Rhea looked at him, calm. "Lucas, in this world, there's no difference."
He drank his coffee slowly."Fine."
Julius held up a hand. "Done."
ATHENA added smoothly:"I'll oversee editing parameters. And crop ratio."
Lucas chuckled, just once. "Of course you will."
Julius didn't waste a beat. He held up his phone and angled it toward Lucas, already filming.
"Alright, heirs and heartbreakers," Julius said, voice like a morning radio host, "you asked, he delivered. This is what breakfast looks like when you're inheriting empires."
Lucas didn't look up. He stabbed a piece of egg and held Julius's gaze. "You film me chewing and I'm docking your pay."
Julius zoomed in anyway. "That's the bite of generational pressure. Seasoned with protein and resignation."
ATHENA chimed in:"Camera stabilization active. Lighting correction engaged. Julius: shift angle five degrees left—frame optimization detected."
Rhea didn't even blink. "If this is what PR has become, I want hazard pay."
Lucas drained his coffee, dropped the fork, and stood. "Come on. We've got a briefing in ten."
The car ride was fast, silent for a moment—just the hum of tires and filtered city light spilling through tinted windows.
Julius was editing clips already. Rhea was scrolling through internal memos.
"Where are we headed?" Lucas asked, pulling on his jacket.
"GreenTech," Rhea said. "Cyrus's pet project. Their HQ's at the Helix Building—floor 22. Your transition team's waiting: legal counsel, project manager, and your new PA. That meeting starts at nine."
Julius leaned over from the front passenger seat. "And at ten, you walk into your first major acquisition pitch—with over a hundred people sitting in that room, including some legacy investors who already think you're a mascot."
Lucas snorted. "Let me guess—Cyrus built half the structure, funded the tech, and never once attended these meetings himself."
Rhea smiled. "Correct. He let the myth do the work. You don't get that luxury."
ATHENA's voice cut in, efficient and neutral."ETA: three minutes. Uploading files on Greentech's full patent library. The team has prepped summary briefs. Recommend opening with a lean forward, no-notes posture. Speak like you've read the code, not just signed the check."
Lucas nodded, jaw tightening. "Got it."
Julius looked over. "Want me in the room or out?"
Lucas thought for a beat. "In. But stay back. I need them to believe I don't need a translator."
"You don't," Rhea said. "You just need to remind them that the name on the building is the same name on the payroll."
The car slowed.
Lucas adjusted his cuff.
"Let's see how much they respect the son," Lucas said, stepping out as the building loomed—glass, steel, and capital dressed in carbon neutrality.
Inside, the 22nd floor had been scrubbed clean for legacy. Sleek lines. Matte finishes. The GreenTech conference suite smelled like ozone and confidence.
Three people were already waiting: a crisply dressed attorney, a soft-spoken project manager with inked knuckles, and a young assistant with perfectly neutral posture.
Lucas didn't immediately speak. He simply gestured to the table.
"Walk me through it."
They did.
The lawyer started first—detailing the pending mergers, the regulatory filings Cyrus had left halfway through, and the NDAs stitched through each conversation like a wire.
The project manager took over—speaking in metrics and software layers, renewable energy pivots, and global partnerships just far enough along to be dangerous.
The assistant handed over a tablet, already cued to visual summaries.
Lucas nodded politely—but he wasn't listening to them alone.
ATHENA's voice slid into his earpiece like silk under steel."Footnote: the lawyer was flagged six months ago for leaking terms of an acquisition to Kairo Nine's advisory branch. Risk factor: moderate. Current leverage: minimal."
"Footnote: the project manager has overspent three R&D cycles by 14%. Cyrus tolerated it for innovation. Recommendation: apply pressure, but don't cut."
"Footnote: the assistant has no red flags. GPA: 4.1. Background: modest. Psychological profile: loyal, untested. Treat with care."
Lucas nodded at the exact right time, eyes steady.
To them, he looked attentive. Quiet. Maybe uncertain.
In reality, he was ten moves ahead and gaining.
Lucas rose from the briefing table without a word, leaving the summaries and nervous glances behind. He adjusted the cuff of his jacket, calm as glass, and moved toward the double doors at the end of the hall.
ATHENA chimed in, low and precise."Full staff assembly: 112 present. Thirty-six engineers. Seventeen legal advisors. Two legacy investors. Nine flagged for conflicting interests. Confidence threshold: 71% and falling. Recommend decisive posture. Eliminate ambiguity."
The doors opened.
The room inside was tiered like a theater, glossy tables in rows, a half-circle of power pretending to be democratic. Everyone looked up when Lucas walked in—some with polite disinterest, others with carefully blank stares.
No one stood.
Lucas didn't wait for an invitation.
He walked to the front, placed his hand flat on the table, and looked directly at the inner circle first—Cyrus's old guard, now clinging to roles they'd grown too comfortable in.
"I know most of you were expecting a handshake," he said. "Some of you were expecting a speech."
He glanced at the large digital wall behind him.
"Instead, let's talk about the last three quarters. Revenue dip, stagnant R&D, delayed carbon battery rollout—and a private side venture involving intellectual property being funneled through a holding company with Cayman ties."
A few people shifted in their seats.
Lucas didn't blink. "I have the data. And I have the authority. Let me be very clear—HanCorp is no longer the house you hide inside. It's the hand that signs your next paycheck."
ATHENA added in his ear,"Three board advisors just texted their assistants. One exit strategy, one early retirement request, and one call to legal. You're doing well."
A soft murmur rippled across the room.
Lucas took a breath, then gestured casually to the screen, which ATHENA instantly activated.
Behind him, slides clicked into place: R&D burn rates, key patents marked in red, competitor trendlines climbing in real time.
"Going forward, any duplication of IP, backchannel deals, or PR delays go directly through me. You'll get my number, my hours, and my tolerance level—which is exactly one."
One of the senior engineers tried to speak. Lucas cut him off without raising his voice.
"You were given freedom. Not immunity. Let's not confuse the two."
Lucas let that hang in the air for one long, excruciating second.
Then, with a small tap on the tablet in his hand, the screen behind him flicked to a new slide—one no one in the room expected.
A full breakdown of the company's top-five active R&D projects. Color-coded. Annotated. Cross-referenced with market competitors—some marked as overtaking within six months.
Gasps. Small ones. Controlled.
"I've spent the last four nights with my AI reviewing every line of your patent library," Lucas said, his tone almost conversational now. "I've also spent time this morning speaking to Cyrus's original engineering strategist, who confirmed my suspicion—three of these projects are obsolete, and the fourth is about to be scooped by an Estonian startup with ten percent of your budget."
The project manager paled.
Lucas didn't stop.
"I know which parts of your carbon battery schematic were reverse-engineered from proprietary HanCorp tech. I know which sub-contractors were overpaid to fake progress reports. And I know which three of you have been playing both sides with Frances Luo's shell partners in Singapore."
One man in the back dropped his pen.
Lucas met his eyes.
"I'm not here to punish anyone. I'm here to raise the bar. And to do that, I have to cut off the dead weight."
ATHENA's voice clicked in, calm and surgical."Three confirmed conflict profiles identified. Full documentation ready for dismissal packages. Shall I initiate?"
Lucas didn't look away.
"Yes."
He turned back to the room.
"This is your window. Prove to me you belong here—or make room for someone who does."
He closed the tablet.
"That's all."
Then he walked out—leaving behind silence and a screen full of data no one could unsee.