CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT –THE WHITE FLAG

The atmosphere in the austere conference room was charged with a palpable tension as Julian and Charlotte took their seats across the gleaming expanse of polished mahogany from Edward and Alexander, the air seeming to crackle with the weight of decades of resentment and wounded pride. For long, agonizing moments, a heavy silence hung over the proceedings, as each party eyed the other warily, their expressions guarded masks betraying little of the roiling undercurrents of emotion that seethed beneath the surface. Finally, it was Julian who broke the silence, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with a measured calm that belied the gravity of the situation. "Father, Uncle Alexander," he began, his gaze level and unwavering as he met their smoldering stares. "I think we can all agree that this conflict between us has gone on for far too long, that the toll it has exacted upon Preston Enterprises, upon our family's legacy, has become too grievous to ignore any longer." Edwa