The boardroom at Vanguard is a cathedral of glass and cold ambition, perched sixty floors above the hum of Manhattan. Morning light cuts through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the polished mahogany table into a dark mirror. Mei Tanaka sits perfectly still, her hands clasped in her lap to hide the slight tremor in her fingers. Twenty-eight days. That is the number etched into the back of her mind—the time remaining before her visa expires and her career as an architect becomes a collection of sketches in a suitcase.
Across the table, Adrian Vance is a study in calculated stillness. He doesn't look like a man in need of a rescue; he looks like a man who has just purchased the horizon. His midnight-blue suit is impeccably tailored, and his gaze is fixed on a series of documents as if he can intimidate the ink into alignment. He needs the board’s approval for the new tower, and they demand the stability of a wife. It is a transaction, cold and structural. This isn't a life, Mei, it's a blueprint.
Sarah Jenkins, Adrian’s lead counsel, breaks the silence with the efficient click of a pen. She doesn't offer a smile, only a professional nod that signals the end of the preamble. There is no talk of romance, only the fiduciary requirements of a public-facing union. Sarah's manicured hand slides the thick, leather-bound contract across the glass table toward Mei.
