The study was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the city lights outside. A single lamp on the desk cast a pool of yellow glow across the polished wood surface, highlighting the neat arrangement of papers, a crystal decanter of whiskey untouched, and a pair of cufflinks placed deliberately beside a leather-bound notebook. The faint hum of traffic seeped through the walls, muffled but constant, a reminder that the world outside continued even as his own seemed to collapse slowly.
Mr. Hayes sat in the high-backed chair, his tuxedo jacket draped neatly over the armrest. His bow tie had been loosened, but the rest of his attire remained immaculate, a reflection of his refusal to let disorder show even as his thoughts churned. His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the folder in front of him. Inside were copies of Fiona's arrest papers,his company reputation was entering the ground and his stocks were plummetting hard.
