At the center table sat Marcus Sterling, flanked by Evelyn, who wore an immaculate ivory silk blouse and a sympathetic, wounded expression, her cheek still bearing the faint trace of cosmetic makeup. Clara sat three seats down, her eyes downcast, pale and hollow-eyed, staring rigidly at her notepad.
The double doors swung open, and Julian walked in.
He wasn't wearing his usual apologetic, deferential posture. His shoulders were back, his stride measured and precise. In his hand, he carried a sleek black aluminum briefcase.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Marcus barked, standing up from his chair. "Your employment status was terminated yesterday afternoon following your conduct in the executive wing. Security will escort you out immediately."
"Before security arrives, Marcus, I suggest we review item twelve on the agenda," Julian said, his voice cutting across the room with absolute authority. He placed the briefcase on the central dais, popped the latches with a crisp click, and connected a portable encrypted drive to the main auditorium projector.