"Will you care to explain, Mr. Smith?" Wren's voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding.
The man, puffed up with an unwarranted sense of self-importance, remained oblivious to the subtle shifts in the room's atmosphere, the sidelong glances and thinly veiled disapproval directed his way. His cognitive gears, it seemed, were only capable of processing his own inflated thoughts.
"Tell me," Wren continued, her tone laced with a dangerous edge, "are you suggesting we simply hand over the reins of our industry to foreign investors and sit idly by, reaping the crumbs? Is that the brilliant proposition you've brought before us?"
Mr. Smith chuckled, a patronizing sound that grated on the nerves of those present. She actually said it, he thought, a smug satisfaction blooming within him. It mirrored precisely the carefully crafted words in a whispered sound.
Wren… she truly is the one. The very Wren they spoke of – the prodigy who shook the world in her adolescence.
