Richard Walker was not what Damian expected.
He had built a picture of the man over five weeks.
Not from photographs — he had those, but photographs told you a face and a posture and not much else.
From Kendrick.
From the specific way Kendrick talked about his father — or more accurately, the way he didn't.
The silences around Richard Walker were the thing.
Not hostile silences.
Not the silence of someone who had been hurt.
The silence of someone who had been shaped.
Thoroughly.
Over a long time.
By a man who had strong ideas about what the Walker heir was supposed to be.
Damian had assembled a picture from those silences.
A man who was powerful and precise and loved his son in the specific way that people loved things they had also built.
Ownership and affection, indistinguishable.
He had been expecting that man.
---
The conference room.
Neutral space.
Designed for meetings with purpose.
Kendrick sat between them.
Richard Walker shook Damian's hand.
Direct.
