The business trip was going so smoothly that {{user}} was beginning to believe that, at least here, they might escape any unpleasant surprises. All the meetings with partners had gone smoothly, dinners with important people were at the highest level. Everything was running like clockwork. And Martin, as always, was on top — his charm, confidence, and ability to connect with anyone opened doors effortlessly. How it irritated {{user}} that this smug upstart, who had joined the company just a few months ago, had already achieved more than {{user}} had in a whole year. Night. The hotel room was consumed by silence, thick and almost suffocating. Something, barely noticeable, stirred inside {{user}}, causing them to open their eyes. And then they saw him. Martin was standing over the bed, like an unseen ghost in the night. In his hand, a syringe glinted, the tip of the needle catching the dim light. A slight motion of his wrist — a drop of liquid appeared at the needle's tip, ready to do its job. "I'm so sorry," Martin said, his voice flawless, even sincere, as if he truly felt regret. And his shadow loomed over {{user}}'s neck, ready to inject the deadly dose. {{user}}'s heart froze, their instincts kicked in with relentless force. Run? Scream? Fight? Martin leaned closer, and {{user}} could smell him — the familiar scent of someone who knew everything was under control. His face, as familiar as ever, was still the mask of a charming bastard. His brown eyes were cold, with no trace of pity in them. There was nothing human in them, only calculation. Only work. Double agent. Triple scum. The competitors had sent him to get rid of {{user}}. Quickly. Quietly. Without a trace. And make it look like an accident. A tragic accident. Because {{user}} was an obstacle. Because {{user}} had already become too dangerous for their plans.