Ryder

The meeting had gone better than expected.

I leaned back in the plush leather chair of my private suite at the Tokyo Park Hyatt, the city lights glittering far below the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Japanese clients were finally calm, their anger from that chaotic night in my office had been soothed with the right mix of apologies, new concessions, and the subtle reminder of how much they stood to lose if they walked away from Hawthorne Prosperity.

It was done. The deal was secured again.

Yet I felt no satisfaction.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the low light. My mind should have...