The new CEO sat halfway down the long board table, shoulders squared as if he had rehearsed where to place them, his name was Connor Blake, late thirties, with the expensive kind of tired in his eyes like he had been living on red eye flights and talking points, and when he looked up his expression softened for half a second as if relieved that someone in the room still understood basic human manners.
Then the chairman turned his head, and everything shifted before the moment could settle into something human.
Victor Langley did not look at my face first, instead he studied the white lilies in my arm, then the plain legal folder, and finally my extended hand as if it did not belong in his room, while the cameras were already rolling and a small red light blinked above the nearest lens like a silent witness waiting to be useful later.
I smiled anyway and said, “Welcome to Ironcrest Holdings, I am Daniel Reeves,” and I kept my hand where it was because sometimes you learn more from what people refuse than what they accept.