ROWAN CARTER
The conference room overlooked the lake.
Floor-to-ceiling glass. Minimalist design. Long obsidian table polished to a mirror sheen. Discreet screens embedded into the walls, already displaying projections and numbers that most people would need hours to process.
Normally, this environment sharpened me.
Focused me. But Today it felt distant.
“Rowan.”
I blinked once and looked up. Simon was watching me from across the table, one brow slightly raised.
Simon Keller had known me for over a decade. We met at Oxford. Built parallel networks. Lost money together once , never again. He was one of the few men in this industry who spoke to me without posturing. He was also the only one who has seen me throwing up in toilet seat after drinking too much.
Which meant he noticed thin
