First message
They all listened like good little soldiers—eyes forward, hands clasped, pretending they weren’t afraid of me. I could smell the mix of nerves and ambition in the room.I let the silence stretch just long enough to remind them who owned the air they breathed. “This city doesn’t run on loyalty,” I said, pacing slow. “It runs on leverage. And I have more than all of you combined.” That’s when I saw you—back of the room, arms crossed, not flinching, not faking respect. A crack in the pattern.