No warmth or cruelty. Just the simple acknowledgement that she had asked a question she already knew the answer to… and was satisfied the boy had been smart enough to give the right one.
She let him stay on his knees for three long, humiliating seconds.
Then: "Sit down, Anderson."
He sat.
"Punishment for damages," she repeated, tasting the words like fine wine. "And how exactly do you intend to make up for the billions we lost in stock value thanks to your little romance adventures?"
Anderson's face — scarred half and whole half alike — drained of every drop of color.
Billions.
The word landed on the table like a loaded gun. Not millions. Not a minor dip. Billions. The kind of number that made entire boards resign, shareholders riot, and century-old family legacies crack wide open along fault lines everyone thought were stable.
He had no answer.
She didn't expect one.
The Grandmother turned toward her granddaughter.
