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The PSR Headquarters stood tall against the dark night sky, its glass structure reflecting the city's endless sea of glittering lights.

Inside, the vast top floor-the domain of one man-was eerily silent. It was 8:00 p.m. The employees had left at 5:00, their absence turning the space into something almost lifeless.

But Ajit remained.

The entire floor was empty, save for two occupied spaces-his expansive CEO office and Kavin's cabin nearby.

Seated behind his mahogany desk, Ajit exuded an effortless dominance, his mere presence commanding the very air around him.

His sharp, chiseled jawline was clean-shaven, his high cheekbones and perfectly structured face giving him a striking, almost intimidating allure.

The dim glow of the overhead lights cast shadows over his sculpted features, highlighting the intensity in his deep, midnight-black eyes.

His dark hair, styled with an effortless precision, had not a single strand out of place. Yet, despite his immaculate appearance, there was something about him that felt untamed-a storm restrained, yet ever-present.

His blazer lay draped over the back of his leather chair, his crisp white shirt's sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins subtly lining his skin. He looked powerful, untouchable.

But at that moment, his gaze was locked onto the thin file before him.

A simple document. Yet, something about it held his attention in a way that even billion-dollar deals didn't.

His fingers hovered near it. But he neither opened it nor read its contents.

A knock.

Firm. Controlled.

"Come in." His deep baritone cut through the silence, steady, authoritative.

The door opened, and Kavin entered. The man was exhausted, his tie loosened, his stance still disciplined, but there was an edge of fatigue in his posture.

Yet, the moment he stepped into Ajit's presence, his demeanor straightened.

"Sir, the Sighaniyas want to reschedule again. Their secretary called earlier."

Ajit's fingers stopped tapping. His piercing gaze lifted, sharp and unreadable.

"This is the third time."

His voice remained calm. But there was an undeniable finality in his tone, one that didn't need volume to make its impact.

"Yes, sir. They're proposing next Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning. But that would clash with your London VC meeting or the quarterly creative review."

A slow exhale. A flicker of irritation.

Ajit leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders stretching slightly, making the space around him feel even smaller.

He rubbed his temple for a brief second before speaking.

"Push the London call to late evening. Schedule the Sighaniyas for Thursday morning. If they reschedule again, we walk. No second chances."

The statement wasn't a suggestion.

It was a decision.

"Yes, sir." Kavin nodded, fingers swiftly noting down the change.

A heavy silence followed. 8:05 p.m.

The building, once alive with power and movement, now felt abandoned, save for these two men.