The glass walls of Stefan's office gleamed under the gentle midday light, casting clean reflections across the polished floors. The scent of fresh espresso lingered in the air, courtesy of Oliver's second cappuccino—something Stefan had long grown used to in their morning meetings.
Oliver sat across from him now, a tablet in hand, scrolling through the final projection slides for that evening's investor presentation.
"If Mr. Rogers still isn't convinced after tonight, we may have to restructure the deal completely," Oliver said, his tone sharp but steady. "He's cautious, and frankly, a little outdated in his thinking."
Stefan rubbed his temples, then leaned back in his chair. "That man hasn't trusted anyone under sixty since the '90s."
Oliver chuckled. "And yet we still need him."
"We need his vote," Stefan corrected. "Not his approval."
