The air was thick, laced with impatience and a slight stench of desperation. Board members leaned forward, their eyes fixed on Xavier, who sat at the head of the long mahogany table, detached. His fingers drummed a silent rhythm against the leather of his chair—tap, tap, tap—his mind elsewhere entangled in a war between longing and resentment.

"Are we ever going to find out who is behind the Eye Of The Ocean?" The question sliced through the tension like a whip's crack, stark against the murmur of suits and ties. They wanted answers. They craved the thrill of unmasking the enigma that had eluded them for far too long. But...