The silence that followed wasn’t normal.
It didn’t feel like confusion. It felt controlled. Measured.
Like everyone in that room had collectively decided, without a word, that this moment needed to be contained before it could spiral further.
Cruz didn’t react immediately.
Years of training under pressure—reading rooms, controlling emotion, holding a role without breaking character—kept his expression steady even as the situation tightened around him.
But internally, he had already adjusted.
This wasn’t something he could handle emotionally.
The only way through this was to stay in character.
To respond the way Nicholas Ashcroft would.
Like a man born with too much money, too much privilege, and far too little reason to care about the people he paid for.
Arrogant. Detached.
The
