"I don't pay for errors," she interrupted, leaning in so the scent of her expensive perfume filled his personal space. "I pay for precision. I pay for the best. If I wanted excuses, I’d hire a politician."

She walked slowly around the perimeter of the room. Her tailored charcoal suit was sharp enough to cut glass, and the click of her heels against the marble floor sounded like a countdown. She stopped behind Mark, the lead analyst, and rested a hand lightly on the back of his chair.

The fluorescent lights of the boardroom hummed, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence Romi commanded just by standing at the head of the mahogany table. As the CEO of Rain Logistics, she didn't just manage people; she orchestrated them.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the room in a frantic rush of motion. Romi Rain didn't just run a company; she owned the room, and everyone in it knew it.

"Mark, tell me," she whispered, "did you think I wouldn't notice the discrepancy in the shipping manifests?"