By the time Arben Kodra entered the room, the argument had already ended. No one announced him. No one needed to. The chairs stopped moving first. Then the voices followed. He didn’t look at everyone just enough to understand who mattered. A folder lay open on the table. Numbers. Names. Mistakes. Arben closed it with two fingers.

“This doesn’t happen again,” he said.

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t advice. Later, someone would ask what Arben had done that night.

