The skyline glowed behind them, glass windows stretching to the ceiling, letting in the dimming light of the city. The room reeked of wealth, but nothing that its occupants were not used to from the polished mahogany, leather chairs, crystal tumblers, and the low murmur of old money disguised as polite conversation.
A long conference table stretched between them. Seated were four old men and a young man, who looked out of place yet otherwise. One could say they were veteran moguls, some in silk suits, others with grey hair swept back like time-worn crowns. At the head of the table sat Brad Thornston, the acting CEO of the winery after his brother had gone missing.
Although this Brad was nothing like the one from months before, he was impassive, thumbing through a digital report that had been submitted to him.
