The elevator doors slid shut with a muted chime, sealing Lutte inside the polished box of steel and glass.
The numbers above ticked downward, a silent countdown to the street below.
He loosened his tie with one hand, exhaling the frustration he had held in through the entire meeting.
The presentation had gone as well as he could deliver, the data airtight, the vision clear.
And yet—dismissed.
Not because it lacked merit, but because Emberborn Technologies chased prestige measured in elite contracts and exclusive markets.
As he crossed the lobby and stepped into the cool city air, Lutte's thoughts raced.
There were dozens of other AI and cybersecurity firms in J Country. He had combed through their portfolios, memorized their strengths and weaknesses.
But none of them compared to Emberborn.
Efficiency, security, adaptability—their AI systems were years ahead of competitors.
His gut told him this was the company, the missing piece to make his renewable fleet unstoppable.
He had trusted his instincts all his life, and they had never steered him wrong.
Not when he left abusive foster homes, not when he took his first job at a food truck, not when he gambled everything to start his own company.
The question was how to appeal again—without compromising his design, without slashing costs that would gut his vision. He refused to cheapen the dream just to earn cooperation.
There had to be another way.
Lutte's car slid to a stop at the curb, sleek and modest compared to the luxury vehicles lined along the avenue.
He climbed inside, giving his driver a distracted nod before leaning back against the seat.
His mind should have been turning numbers and strategy. And it was—until it wasn't.
Instead, his thoughts shifted, unbidden, to Asher Emberborn.
Those peridot-green eyes, sharp enough to cut through excuses. That posture—composed, precise, not a gesture wasted.
Most men his age wore their youth carelessly; Asher bore his like a blade sheathed in iron control.
There was a presence about him, commanding yet not overbearing, dominance without cruelty.
It unsettled Lutte, that calm.
It was rare—rare, and oddly admirable.
He pressed his thumb absently against his lower lip, a wry smile tugging at his face despite the sting of rejection.
Of all the people to block my path, it had to be someone like him.
The city lights blurred past the window as the car moved through traffic.
Lutte forced his thoughts back to strategies, angles, and possibilities.
But in the quiet recess of his mind, Asher's steady gaze lingered—unshakable, like a challenge he found himself already unwilling to walk away from.
The moment Lutte stepped through the glass doors of Valance Ventures, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations paused, keyboards clicked slower, and then—warm smiles spread across faces.
"Welcome back, boss!"
"Hey, Mr. Valdes!"
"Lutte, you're back early—how'd the pitch go?"
The greetings weren't formal, weren't forced. They carried the warmth of family.
Lutte returned each one with ease, calling names as though the roster of a hundred people was etched into his bones.
"Good work on the logistics report, Ana."
"Luke, how's your little one doing? Better, I hope."
"Don't overwork yourself, Marcie. Those designs won't run away if you take a break."
He stopped here and there, crouching by a technician's desk to check their calculations, adjusting a schematic on someone's tablet, or simply lending a listening ear.
His presence was not just that of a CEO—it was of a man who remembered where he came from and refused to lose touch with those who built alongside him.
But just as he began to circle toward the next row of workstations, three of his senior team leaders intercepted him.
"Mr. Valdes," the eldest, Ricardo, said with a grin that crinkled his weathered face. "Go. Shoo. Leave the floor to us. You've got your own war to fight upstairs."
The others chimed in, "You hired us for a reason. We can handle the grind. You focus on the big picture."
Lutte chuckled, surrendering with raised hands. "Fine, fine. But I'm holding you all accountable if I come back down and see the place on fire."
Their laughter followed him as he retreated to his private office.
Inside, the weight of leadership settled back on his shoulders.
His office was simple with a polished oak desk, large screens built into the walls, a collection of blueprints pinned to one corner, and a well-worn coffee mug waiting faithfully.
He sat down, pulling out his phone. "Could you come in for a moment?" he said to his secretary over the line.
Moments later, Shira entered with her ever-present tablet.
Efficient, sharp-eyed, yet fond in her exasperation for her boss's relentless pace.
"We need to schedule a meeting tomorrow morning," Lutte said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Topic: Emberborne. I want the key department heads present. R&D, manufacturing, finance, logistics. We'll go over the failed attempt and figure out how we can reframe."
Shira nodded briskly, fingers dancing across the screen. "Consider it done. Invitations sent tonight, confirmations by midnight. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Once that's secured, I'll need the latest project updates."
By the time she left, the main screen across his wall flickered to life, displaying multiple feeds—progress charts, financial projections, prototype schematics.
His eyes moved from one to the next, skimming for trouble spots.
It didn't take long to find one.
The manufacturing department had flagged an urgent request. The finer details of their solar integration designs weren't holding up under stress tests.
The power delegation system, without an AI optimizer, was leaking efficiency like a cracked pipe.
"Of course," Lutte muttered, standing and grabbing his jacket. He left Shira a quick note: "Prioritize the paperwork queue—you know what you can handle. I'll be in manufacturing."
The long corridor to the manufacturing bay carried the faint hum of machines. As soon as he entered, the tang of metal and the rhythmic hiss of welding greeted him.
Engineers in protective goggles hovered over prototypes of the new food trucks, panels of solar arrays stacked like puzzle pieces waiting to be perfected.
"Mr. Valdes," a foreman called, relief in his voice. "We need you to see this."
Lutte moved closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the display. The panels absorbed power, yes, but the distribution lagged.
Oven and stove spikes strained the system, starving the truck's core functions at peak hours.
It was exactly what he feared.
Without AI optimization, the design would always fall short. Manual calibrations couldn't adapt fast enough. Emberborne's rejection seems to be a setback.
He rested his hands on the cold steel of the prototype, his right hand unconsciously massaged the back of his neck as his mind wandered.
This is why we need them. Gotta find a way to make them see it.