The air in the CEO's office was so thin it felt like it might spontaneously combust. The heavy silence that followed Fiona's words wasn't just a pause; it was the sound of a legacy fracturing in real-time.
Martin looked down at the letter. The stark, black ink on the cream-colored Voss letterhead looked like a scar. His fingers, usually so steady when signing multi-million dollar mergers, trembled as they brushed the edge of the paper.
"Fiona, tear this up," Martin commanded, but his voice lacked its usual bite. It was a plea disguised as an order. "You're reacting out of emotion. We can fix the narrative. ."
