The room went silent the moment the door closed, no one looked up but everyone felt it—the shift in the air, heavy and sharp. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to, just a slow step forward, the sound of shoes on marble, measured and calm like a clock counting down. A glass clinked somewhere in the corner, someone swallowed too loud, but no one dared move. He stopped at the head of the table, hands resting lightly on the chair, and for a moment the room held its breath, then just one look—cold, steady, enough to strip the soul bare. By the time the first man begged to talk, it was already too late.