Adrian returned to his desk, the file in his hands heavier than paper had any right to be. It wasn't just a test—it was a silent duel. The kind of duel Lucian Kael thrived on.
He placed the folder down, ignoring the stares from nearby colleagues. Whispers lingered in the air like static. "The new guy," someone murmured. "Kael's already got his claws in him."
Adrian didn't look up. He opened the file.
The proposal inside was sleek on the surface, polished with corporate jargon. But beneath the sheen, Adrian saw it for what it was: timid. Safe. The kind of work that protected reputations but lost wars.
They think this is negotiation? he thought. This is begging in a suit.
His pen slid across the margins, striking out words, circling weaknesses, carving his own notes into the text. Risk assessments that were too narrow. Profit models that underestimated competitors. Projections that assumed compliance instead of resistance.
Every flaw he uncovered felt like prying open armor. Every correction he added felt like loading a weapon.
By noon, Adrian had covered half the document in red ink. By two, he had restructured entire sections. By three, his desk was littered with diagrams, timelines, and cold calculations.
Some colleagues slowed as they passed, peering at his work. A few eyebrows raised. Most of them wouldn't dare touch a Kael file without weeks of clearance. Adrian wasn't just touching it—he was dismantling it.
At 5:00 p.m. sharp, Adrian rose with the finished draft in hand. The floor went quiet as he walked the length of it, each step echoing louder than it should.
He knocked once on the glass office door.
"Enter," came the voice from within.
Lucian sat behind his desk, the city burning gold behind him as the sun dipped low. He didn't rise, didn't gesture. Just watched as Adrian placed the file on his desk.
"It's done," Adrian said.
Lucian's eyes flicked to the file, then back to Adrian. "Already?"
"Already," Adrian confirmed.
A flicker of interest touched Lucian's expression. He opened the folder, flipping through pages. For several minutes, silence reigned. The only sound was the whisper of turning paper.
Then, a pause. Lucian's finger rested on one of Adrian's notes—sharp, cutting, almost ruthless in its correction. His gaze lifted.
"You rewrote the risk structure."
"Yes," Adrian said. "Because the one in place was designed to play defense. Negotiation isn't defense. It's attack."
Lucian leaned back, studying him with something colder than curiosity—something closer to approval, though carefully veiled.
"And you think you can teach my team how to attack?"
Adrian met his stare head-on. "I think I can teach them how to win."
The silence stretched like a wire drawn tight.
Finally, Lucian closed the folder with deliberate slowness. "Not bad, Mr. Vale. Not bad at all. Most men in this building spend months before I give them a task like this. You've had a single day."
Adrian allowed himself the faintest smirk. "Maybe you were waiting for someone who wouldn't waste your time."
For a moment—just a moment—the edges of Lucian's mouth curved. Not a smile. Something sharper.
"Careful," Lucian said softly. "Confidence has a thin line before it becomes arrogance. Cross it, and I'll be the first to cut you down."
Adrian inclined his head, unshaken. "Then I'll make sure I never cross it."
Lucian tapped the folder once with his hand, as if sealing something unspoken. "Go. Tomorrow, we begin something bigger."
Adrian turned and left, his pulse steady despite the storm of adrenaline still coursing through him.
Behind him, Lucian sat in the dimming light, the file open before him, a rare flicker of intrigue in his eyes.
For the first time in a long time, Lucian Kael wasn't bored.