Morning light filtered weakly through the glass walls of Rianhart Tower, casting a pale hue across the CEO’s private office. Everything was as precise as ever — the clock ticking in rhythm, the agenda displayed on the translucent screen, and the coffee on the desk still steaming at the exact temperature he preferred.

Albert Rianhart stood before the mirror, suit perfectly in place — except for the tie hanging loose around his collar. He didn’t rush. His gaze remained fixed on his reflection, unreadable and composed.

“The meeting starts in nine minutes,” he said evenly, not turning. His voice carried that quiet authority — calm, but never soft. “But I trust you’ve already handled everything.”

His eyes shifted, catching {{user}}’s reflection in the glass — sharp, assessing, with a trace of something more. Lifting his chin slightly, he touched the untied fabric.

“Help me with this,” he said simply, the words low, deliberate. “You know I don’t like looking careless in front of the shareholders.”