The morning sun, filtered through the leaded glass of the study window, cast warm, amber rhombuses onto the Persian rug. The air was thick with the scent of aged leather, pipe tobacco (though neither man was currently smoking), and strong, freshly brewed coffee.
Mr. David Vance, a man whose tailored tweed jacket suggested an inherent appreciation for order, leaned back in his chair behind a heavy mahogany desk, steepling his fingers. Across from him, Kevin—younger, sharper, and dressed in a modern, dark suit—took a measured sip of his coffee.
"So, Kevin, to finalize," David said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone. "The merger terms are agreed upon in principle, pending legal sign-off next week. Excellent. That frees us to discuss this other tiresome matter."
Kevin placed his porcelain
