Holloway knocked on Kellerman's door with a confidence he did not feel, the sharp raps echoing in the quiet corridor with a certainty that sounded almost genuine. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times since leaving his own office, walking through the motions in his mind, refining his arguments, anticipating objections, constructing a performance that would serve Michael's purpose while preserving the illusion that it was his own. The folder in his hand contained the report he had crafted with such care, the names ranked and graded, the narrative of decline and necessary sacrifice woven into language that sounded like corporate reform rather than blackmail-induced manipulation.
"Come in."
