Damian's grin widened like he'd won a small bet.
Before Max could return to his screens, the office door opened without the courtesy of restraint.
Elliot. The spoiled son of George Claymore.
Max felt his patience evaporate. Elliot strode in as if the manor belonged to him, steps loud on purpose, emerald tiepin catching the light, eyes scanning the room with that thin veneer of superiority that always made Max want to do something illegal.
Elliot carried a folder stamped with the Blue Ether Project seal like it was a medal.
"Maximilian," Elliot said smoothly, ignoring Damian entirely. "I brought the final report on the Blue Ether Project. I thought I'd deliver it personally, given its importance."
Max didn't move. He didn't rise. He didn't offer Elliot the satisfaction of being treated like a visitor worth standing for.
"I don't recall inviting you," Max said. "Gabriel told me he would send it directly to the court."
