More executives.
More directors.
More faces that ranged from curious to concerned to outright antagonistic.
The room filled steadily, conversations continuing in hushed tones that somehow managed to be loud with implication.
And then Lu Zeyan entered, followed closely by an older man who could only be his father.
Lu Cheng was in his late forties but looked a decade younger, sharp-eyed, commanding, with the kind of presence that came from decades of wielding absolute authority without ever being seriously challenged.
His hair was silver-white at the temples in a distinguished pattern that probably added to his gravitas rather than making him look old.
He moved with the confident ease of someone who'd never been denied anything important in his life, someone who expected deference and received it automatically.
Father and son took seats at the head of the table, Lu Cheng in the primary chairman's position, Lu Zeyan to his right in the secondary power seat.
