Clement sat hunched over his desk, shoulders tense, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
The reports before him lay scattered in controlled chaos, papers overlapping, some marked with red ink, others creased where his fingers had dug into them too hard.
Numbers stared back at him. Projections. Losses. Deadlines.
And there was the sixty million dollars… In one month. The figure pulsed in his head like a wound that refused to close.
Clement dragged a hand down his face, fingers catching briefly in his graying beard as he exhaled sharply. How was that even possible?
How was he supposed to pull that kind of money together in four weeks without collapsing everything he had spent decades building?
His foot bounced beneath the desk, a restless, anxious tell he hadn't been able to suppress all morning.
Sixty million. One month. No extensions.
And the board…
