Smith's POV.

They were wrong. All of them.

There had to be something, or someone...working behind the scenes to ruin me. This wasn’t just bad business or failed negotiations. It wasn’t market volatility or unpredictable timing. This was surgical. Precise. Every loss felt orchestrated. Timed. Like there was a phantom puppeteer cutting my strings one by one.

Another deal slipped through my fingers today. One I needed. And when I called to salvage it, they said the documents were leaked before we could even get to the table. Leaked. Again. Just like Wallace. Just like the protests. Just like the merger.

My chest burned. My head pounded. I gripped my...