The rain that afternoon fell softly against the office windows, a quiet rhythm that seemed to steady the air inside. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of polished wood from the long table, now scattered with documents, business maps, and an open laptop.

Vania sat across from Arga, pen in hand, her eyes scanning the charts and notes they had compiled together.

“I think we need to consider the worst-case scenario,” Arga said, his gaze fixed on his laptop screen. His voice was calm, but his eyes held a sharp, unwavering focus.

Vania gave a slow nod. “Worst case means Devandra will try to...