The air conditioning in the Sterling & Associates tower hummed with a low, mechanical indifference. It was 11:42 PM. The cleaning crews had already circled the floor, leaving the scent of lemon polish to compete with the bitter aroma of Elias's fourth espresso.
Clara hadn't moved from the conference table in six hours. She was surrounded by ledgers—physical ones.
"We have digital backups for all of these, Ms. Vance," Elias said, leaning against the doorframe. He had discarded his suit jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked surprisingly sturdy for a man who spent his life behind a desk.
Clara didn't look up. Her glasses had slipped slightly down the bridge of her nose. "Algorithms don't catch the 'why,' Mr. Thorne. They only catch the 'what.' My father didn't just lose money; he lost the trust of three generations of vendors. You can't see a broken promise in a spreadsheet."
Elias walked over, his footsteps muffled by the heavy carpet. He picked up a folder she had marked with a red tab. "This vendor—Marlowe Steel. You're overpaying them by fifteen percent."
"I'm paying them for loyalty," she snapped, finally looking at him. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with a defiant exhaustion that made Elias's chest tighten. "When the warehouse flooded in '08, Marlowe didn't cash our checks for four months so we could keep the lights on. I don't 'optimize' friends."
Elias felt a flick of irritation. "Business isn't a charity ward, Clara."
"And life isn't a math equation, Elias."
It was the first time she had used his first name. The air in the room shifted. The professional distance he relied on—the one that kept his own painful memories of a bankrupt childhood at bay—felt suddenly fragile.
He sat down across from her, not to argue, but because he realized he didn't want to go home to his silent, perfect penthouse.
"Show me," he said softly, pointing to the ledger. "Show me the 'why' behind Marlowe Steel."
Clara hesitated, her defensive posture softening by a fraction of an inch. For the next three hours, they didn't talk about mergers. They talked about legacies, mistakes, and the weight of carrying a name.