Page 53 of Till Orc Do Us Part

“They will not fold.”

I surprise even myself with the sharpness of the words.

Her gaze sharpens in turn. “With respect, sir—you’ve always prioritized clarity over sentiment. We’ve built this firm on decisive moves, not nostalgia.”

I glance past her, toward the wide glass wall framing the distant skyline.

It looks wrong. Too clean. Too hollow.

I remember the weight of a child against my side in a storm. The way Rowan’s fingers trembled on my skin, as if touching me might undo her.

I meet Ilyana’s gaze again.

“The boardwalk is not merely old wood and rust,” I say quietly.

Her lips thin. “It is also not profitable.”

Silence hums between us.

“You have been distracted,” she adds softly.

Another statement. Not a question.

I lean back, voice cold as iron. “Do you question my leadership?”

“No.” But her mouth is tight. “I question your priorities.”

So do I.

I glance down at the binder again. The crisp gray lines, the empty promises.

And I know, with a clarity that cuts deeper than any blade, that I cannot sign this.

Not now.

Not like this.

I close the binder. Push it aside.

“Delay the demo orders,” I say.

Ilyana’s eyes widen, just slightly. “Sir?—”

“Delay them.”

Her jaw locks. “Your shareholders will not approve of hesitation.”

“They are accustomed to my results,” I reply. “They will wait.”

She exhales through her nose. “Very well.”

She gathers the binder with practiced grace. “But understand—sentiment does not sustain this firm. Steel does.”

I let her words land, but I do not move.

As she turns to leave, her voice softens—just a fraction.

“You taught me not to look back, Drokhaz,” she says. “Be careful you’re not forgetting why.”