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Someone shifted in their chair. Another cleared his throat.
The billionaire laughed again, but this time the sound was thinner. “You’re a sharp one,” he said. “But it doesn’t change the rules.”
The boy nodded. “I understand.”
He walked closer to the safe but didn’t touch it. Instead, he turned back toward the men at the table.
“My dad used to say,” the boy began, “that real security isn’t about locks or steel. It’s about who controls the story.”
The billionaire crossed his arms. “And what does that have to do with this?”
“It means this was never a fair challenge,” the boy replied calmly. “Because if someone did open it, you could always say it didn’t count.”
No one smiled this time.
