ZEVIAR
The boardroom was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffle of papers.
Twenty executives sat around the massive glass table, all eyes on me. Waiting. They always waited for me to speak first. I leaned back in my chair, fingers interlaced, and let the silence stretch just long enough to make them uncomfortable.
"No," I said finally.
Harrison, the lead investor, blinked. Mid-fifties, expensive suit, oozing confidence. "Mr. Knight, if you could just take a look at the revised numbers—”
"I did. The answer is still no."
"But the profit margins—"
"Are acceptable, but not exceptional." I leaned forward slightly, and Harrison shut his mouth. "I don't do business for acceptable returns. If you want my investment, bring me something worth my time
