Aria’s hands were ice-cold as she clutched her phone, the muted light of the Golden Oak casting elongated shadows over the table where the Nakamura meeting had just crumbled. The sting of losing such an important deal clung to her skin like a physical burn. She pressed the phone to her ear, willing her breath to steady as the line connected.
“James,” she said, her voice clipped, the steel barely masking the panic underneath. James was the head of communications at the Moretti, a man known for his sharp instincts and an unwavering commitment to crisis management. He had handled PR nightmares before, but this was different. This wasn’t just about bad press; it was about the company’s future.
“Miss Aria, what can I do for you?” James’s voice was calm, professional, but there was a tension i
