Senna Reeves liked to arrive early.
It gave her time to breathe before everyone else's problems tried to press into her skin.
The lobby of Voss Holdings was too big to feel friendly. It was full of glass, stone, sharp lines, and expensive art that did not invite you to come closer. People moved with fast steps and straight backs, their ID badges flashing in the cold light.
Senna stood near one of the pillars and watched the flow of people for a moment. She held a simple leather bag in one hand and a slim folder in the other. No briefcase, no loud brand, no one trailing after her.
She did not belong here. Not in the same way they did.
But that was the point.
She checked the time on her phone. 8:37 a.m. Her meeting with the legal team was at nine. After that, she would be introduced to the heads of the two fighting departments.
And somewhere on the top floors, Calder Voss was already inside this building.
She had read about him when she accepted the job. You could not agree to mediate in a company like this without knowing whose walls you were stepping into. The articles online all said the same things: billionaire, icy, private, ruthless, strategic, "unshakable in negotiations."
People liked to repeat words until they sounded like facts.
She wanted to see the man, not the myth.
A woman in a navy blazer approached her with a warm, practiced smile. "Ms. Reeves?"
"Yes."
"Good morning, I'm Mara, from legal. Thank you for coming in."
They shook hands. Mara's grip was firm. Her eyes flicked over Senna's simple blouse, dark trousers, low heels, and bare neck. No jewelry except a thin silver watch. Senna saw the quick assessment in that one glance and almost smiled.
"I hope you didn't have trouble finding the building," Mara said as they walked toward security.
"It's hard to miss," Senna replied.
Mara laughed lightly. "That's what Mr. Voss wanted, I think. Visibility."
Security was efficient. Bag through scanner, ID issued, a small visitor sticker fixed to her jacket. They stepped into a private elevator. The doors closed with a soft hum, cutting off the noise of the lobby like a curtain.
Mara tapped a card and pressed a floor button.
"We'll start with a quick briefing in the legal conference room," she said. "Then we'll bring in the BioTech R&D and Public Affairs leads. Mr. Voss may join later, depending on his schedule."
"May?" Senna asked.
Mara's mouth tilted. "He approved your appointment personally. That's already rare. If he joins the session, you'll know it's serious."
Senna nodded once. She liked clear stakes.
The elevator glided up. Her reflection stared back at her from the metal walls. Brown eyes, steady. Hair pulled back in a neat twist. Calm face.
Inside, her mind was already working. Two departments. One dispute about leaked data. A huge company and a man at the top who hated public mess.
She had seen similar patterns before. No two conflicts were the same, but the shape of them often rhymed. Fear, pride, hurt, misunderstanding, ambition. You could almost always find those somewhere at the core.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
The legal floor smelled faintly of paper, coffee, and something sharp she couldn't name. Mara led her down a hallway to a glass-walled conference room.
"Here we are," Mara said. "Can I get you coffee? Tea?"
"Water is fine, thank you."
Senna took a seat on one side of the long table. Mara handed her a bottle of water and placed a printed packet in front of her.
"These are the internal notes we sent you, with a few updates," Mara said. "Some email threads came in late last night. You can keep them."
"Thank you."
Mara sat down opposite her. "Before the others join, I want to be clear about one thing: the company wants this resolved quietly. No leaks. No public drama."
"I understand," Senna said. Her voice stayed soft, but she met Mara's eyes directly. "But if the goal is real peace and not just silence, both sides will need to feel heard. That can take time."
Mara exhaled. "Yes. I know. Just… do what you do. We've heard you're very good."
"I don't do magic," Senna replied. "I listen. And I ask questions people avoid."
Mara's smile grew a little more real. "You'll fit right in, then."
The door opened, and two more lawyers entered. They introduced themselves, discussed timelines and possible outcomes. Senna listened, took notes in tidy handwriting, and asked a few precise questions. She wanted to know who held real power in each department, who was likely to feel cornered, who was known to explode, and who never spoke until the end.
By the time the meeting with legal ended, she had a picture in her mind. Not complete, but enough to see the outline of the problem.
She was still tucking her notebook into her bag when Mara's phone buzzed. Mara glanced at the screen, then straightened with a slight jolt.
"Oh. Mr. Voss wants to see you before the group session."
The room quieted for a beat. One of the lawyers made a low sound. "Already?"
Senna's hand paused on the zipper of her bag. "Now?"
"Yes." Mara's voice dropped into a more formal tone. "He asked that I bring you up."
So he was serious.
"Of course," Senna said. Her heart gave a small, hard thump against her ribs, but her face stayed calm. "I'm ready."
The top floor felt different the moment the elevator doors opened.
There were fewer people, but the silence was heavier, more intentional. The lighting was softer, the furniture more expensive, the air cooler. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the hallway, giving a wide view of the city spread out in layers of glass and concrete.
"Mr. Voss's office is this way," Mara said. Her steps were brisk but not rushed.
Senna walked beside her, taking in the environment. Everything here spoke of control. Thick doors, neat artwork, subtle colors. No clutter.
They stopped in front of a tall, dark door with a discreet plaque:
Calder Voss
Mara knocked once.
A low voice came from inside. "Come in."
Mara opened the door and stepped aside to let Senna enter first.
The office was large, but not as exaggerated as she expected. One wall was all glass. The city lay beyond it like a map. A long desk sat near the center, clear except for a laptop, a few files, and a simple pen holder. There were two chairs in front of the desk, one chair behind it. A soft seating area stood to the side with a small table and a muted rug.
And behind the desk, standing instead of sitting, was Calder Voss.
He was taller than he looked in the rare pictures she had seen online. Dark hair, neat and precise. Clean-shaven jaw. A navy suit that fit in a way that said it was tailored, not just bought.
But it was his eyes that caught her attention and held it for a moment.
They were pale, almost icy, yes. But up close, she could see something else. A tiredness that did not come from sleep, and a watchfulness that did not rest even when his face was still.
"Mr. Voss," Mara said. "This is Ms. Senna Reeves."
Senna shifted her bag onto her shoulder and stepped forward, offering her hand. "Mr. Voss. Thank you for meeting with me."
He looked at her hand for half a second, then took it. His grip was firm, dry, brief.
"Ms. Reeves," he said. His voice was low and even, like the hum of distant machinery. "Thank you for coming."
He released her hand and nodded once to Mara. "Give us a moment."
"Of course," Mara said. She slipped out, closing the door behind her.
The soft click of the latch seemed very loud.
Calder moved around the desk and gestured toward the chairs across from it. "Please, sit."
"Thank you."
Senna set her bag down and sat with her back straight but relaxed. Calder took the chair behind the desk, but he did not lean back. He rested his forearms lightly on the surface instead.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Senna let the silence stand. She had learned long ago that silence could either suffocate or open a space. It depended on what you did with it.
Calder studied her. It was not rude, just direct. He took her in the way he might take in a file—carefully, without haste.
"You read the brief," he said at last.
"Yes," she replied. "Twice."
"And you still accepted the job."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "I've seen worse."
Something that almost looked like surprise flickered in his eyes. It was gone in an instant.
"This company is large," he said. "Mistakes happen. People… clash. I don't like internal problems becoming external stories."
"I gathered that," Senna said. "The legal team was very clear. You want this handled quietly."
"I want it handled correctly," he corrected, his tone still calm. "Quietly is a part of correctly."
She nodded. "That's good to know."
He watched her. "You specialize in high-tension negotiations."
"Yes."
"You're not with a firm."
"No."
"Why?"
Senna clasped her hands loosely in her lap. He was used to people explaining themselves. She could feel it. Most likely, no one ever asked him why.
"I like to choose the cases I work with," she said. "And I like to know I'm there for the conflict, not for the logo on the glass door."
His gaze held on to her face for a beat longer. There was a small pause between his inhale and exhale, like he was considering something deeper than her answer.
"Law firms often bring heat into a room," she added, her tone mild. "My job is to lower the temperature."
"You think you can lower it here?" he asked.
"Yes," she said simply. "If the people in the room actually want peace."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I will at least make sure they hear the truth," she replied. "Sometimes that's all I can do."
Her words settled between them.
Calder's jaw shifted, as if he was holding back a comment. Then he leaned back in his chair finally, the leather creaking softly.
"You should know," he said, "that the people you'll speak with are talented but… strong-headed."
"Most people are strong-headed when they think they're right," Senna said.
His lips moved in the smallest ghost of a smile. "And if they are?"
"Then I help them say it in a way that doesn't burn the building down."
He studied her again. This time, Senna did not look away. She let him see that she was not impressed by his title and not shaken by his silence.
"Do you often meet the owner before you start?" he asked.
"Only when the owner is the real reason the dispute is this big," she said.
The moment the words left her mouth, the room seemed to stop, like air had thickened.
It was not an attack. She had not raised her voice or sharpened her tone. But the sentence cut through the smooth surface of the conversation.
Calder's eyes cooled. For a second, the CEO everyone feared stepped closer to the surface.
"Explain," he said quietly.
Senna stayed calm. "If employees think their boss will fire them for being honest, they lie," she said. "If they think their boss only cares about numbers, they sell stories instead of truth. If they're afraid of how leadership will react, they start hiding things. And hidden things grow."
He said nothing.
She continued, keeping her voice gentle, not accusing. "The emails I saw. The language between the departments. The way they copied people into the smallest complaints. This is fear. Fear of being blamed, fear of being discarded, fear of losing ground. Fear like that doesn't appear in a vacuum."
His fingers tapped once, lightly, on the edge of his desk, then stilled. "You're saying this is my fault."
"I'm saying the tone of a place often drips from the top," she said. "That doesn't mean you did anything with bad intent. It just means people watch you and learn what is safe."
Silence again.
Outside, a tiny bird flashed across the window and vanished.
Calder's gaze dropped to the file on his desk for one second, then lifted back to her.
"People say many things about me," he said. "Not many say it to my face."
"I'm not here to insult you," Senna replied. "I'm here to help you keep your house standing. Sometimes that means telling you where the walls are cracked."
The tightness around his mouth eased just a little. He looked at her differently now. Less like an outsider and more like a mirror he hadn't asked for but could not throw away.
"Will you tell them the same thing?" he asked.
"I'll tell them what they need to hear," she said. "Including their part in this. I don't take sides."
"You will be paid by my company," he said.
"Yes," she agreed. "But you didn't hire me to agree with you. You hired me to end a problem."
He sat back again. The small line between his brows relaxed. For the first time, he looked slightly less like a statue and more like a person sitting behind a desk he did not always enjoy.
"You don't seem impressed by this place, Ms. Reeves," he said.
"It's a very polished building," she said. "But I've seen polished places filled with unhappy people."
"You think my people are unhappy?"
"I think some of them are scared," she said softly. "There's a difference."
Another stretch of quiet. This one was… less sharp.
He turned his chair slightly, as if used to glancing at something behind him, then stopped halfway. Senna followed the faint movement with her eyes and noticed a door she hadn't seen when she first walked in. It was set into the side wall, plain and almost hidden, without a label.
He caught her glance, then looked back at her.
"That door leads somewhere important?" she asked lightly.
His expression shifted for half a heartbeat. "It leads to my private garden."
"A garden," she repeated, surprised. In a place like this, she had expected a gym, a bar, maybe a private meeting room. "Inside the office?"
"Inside the building," he corrected. "Not part of the tour."
"That's… unexpected," she said.
His eyes narrowed a little, not in anger, but in cautious curiosity. "Why?"
"Most people who build glass towers forget that they need something living inside them," she said. "Plants. Light. Something that doesn't answer to emails."
He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, "I like things that grow in order."
She almost smiled. "Plants don't always listen."
Something in his gaze warmed, just a shade.
He looked at the time on the small clock near his screen, then back to her. "The first joint session is in half an hour. You'll have both department heads and a handful of their people in the room. My legal team will be present."
"And you?" she asked.
"I'll watch the recording," he said.
She tilted her head. "People behave differently when they know they're being watched."
"They know I'm always watching," he said simply.
"That," she said softly, "might be the problem."
His eyes flashed. Then, to her surprise, a low, short laugh escaped him. It was not loud. It sounded like it had not been used in a long time.
"Do you always speak this freely?" he asked.
"Only when I think it will help," she said.
"And will it?"
She held his gaze. "We'll see."
He inhales slowly, then nods once. "Very well. Mara will take you to the conference room."
She rose from her chair. So did he. For some reason, that small courtesy made the air between them feel less formal.
"Ms. Reeves," he said as she picked up her bag.
"Yes?"
"If you find that the problem is bigger than the emails suggest…"
She waited.
His eyes held hers. "Tell me before it reaches the outside."
"I will," she said. "If you're willing to hear it."
His answer came quieter. "I am."
She believed him, which surprised her.
She turned toward the door. Her hand was on the handle when he spoke again.
"One more thing," he said.
She looked back.
"You said you don't take sides," he said. "Is that always true?"
She thought about it, the way she always did when someone asked something that sounded simple but wasn't. "I don't take sides in fights," she said slowly. "But I take sides with the truth. Even when it's not convenient."
His gaze sharpened, as if he had been waiting for that answer.
"Then I hope," he said, "that the truth is kind to us."
She opened the door, stepping out into the quiet hallway where Mara was waiting.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Senna exhaled a breath she had not realized she was holding. Her heartbeat was a little faster than usual, and she did not like that.
Mara fell into step beside her. "How was it?"
Senna glanced back once at the closed office door. She remembered the stillness in Calder's eyes, the slight warmth when he spoke about the garden, the way he had listened even when her words cut close.
"He's not what I expected," she said.
"Colder?" Mara asked.
Senna shook her head. "No. Quieter." She paused. "Quieter in the wrong places."
Mara frowned, not understanding, but let it go.
As they walked toward the conference room, Senna's phone buzzed in her bag. She slipped it out, expecting a message from another client or a reminder she had set for herself.
Instead, she saw a new email at the top of her inbox.
From: [email protected]
Subject: After the session
She opened it while she walked, her steps slowing.
Ms. Reeves,
When the joint session ends, please come back to my office. I'd like a private debrief.
— C. Voss
Senna stopped in the hallway for just a second. The words on the screen were simple, not overdone, not demanding. But they settled over her like a weight.
She had come here to manage a conflict between two departments.
Now she had to decide how close she was willing to stand to the man at the center of the building.
She slipped the phone back into her bag and started walking again, her face calm, her spine a little straighter.
"Ready?" Mara asked, opening the conference room door.
"Yes," Senna said, even though part of her was no longer sure which battle she was getting ready for.
She stepped inside, not knowing that by the end of the day, she wouldn't just be reading the cracks in other people.
Calder Voss's silence had already begun to read her.
And now, he wanted to hear what she would say when the door was closed and there was no one else in the room.