The meeting room was silent except for the sound of typing fingers and the faint hum of the projector hanging from the ceiling.
At exactly seven thirty in the evening, the weekly executive meeting finally ended.
The directors around the long black table looked exhausted. Some loosened their ties while others hurried to gather their files, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere that always followed meetings chaired by Jordan Rodriguez.
Jordan sat at the head of the table like a statue carved from ice.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Untouchable.
The silver watch around his wrist reflected the dim lights above him as he closed the file in front of him with a sharp snap.
“No mistakes on tomorrow’s reports,” he said flatly.
Nobody answered immediately.
The tension in the room thickened.
Jorda
