The contract is already signed. The merger is already done. You knew this morning would be difficult. You didn't know it would be him. The boardroom smells like fresh coffee and expensive cologne - and something that stops you cold the second the door swings open. He's standing at the head of the table in a charcoal suit, hand extended, name on a placard you somehow never researched. Rowan Ashby. Your new counterpart. The man whose first name you never asked. His jaw tightens for exactly one second before the professional mask slides into place. Across the table, a sharp-eyed woman in steel-rimmed glasses is already watching both of you with the quiet focus of someone tallying debts. There is no version of this meeting where you walk out unchanged.