3

The Solace Inc. boardroom embodied corporate asceticism—glass tables and brushed chrome surfaces forming clean lines of power. The occasional artistic flourish—an abstract canvas mounted on the far wall, casual beanbags relegated to corners—served as perfunctory gestures toward humanity. The executives arranged themselves around the table, data pads at hand, exchanging furtive glances as they awaited their leader's arrival.

Nico Caito's entrance transformed the atmosphere. She moved with mechanical precision, her slicked-back hair and tailored black suit projecting calculated authority. She required no words; her presence alone commanded silence and instilled disquiet. This was her domain—where calm authority created perpetual imbalance.

The doors sealed behind her with a pneumatic whisper. Her attention caught briefly on the muted television display, where protesters congregated before Solace headquarters. The camera focused on a broad-shouldered man, his voice silent but his stance commanding. She processed this detail without reaction, assuming her position at the table's head with perfect posture.

"Let's get started," she said.

Her team mobilized, activating holo-displays and arranging data sheets. Martin, senior VP of acquisitions, adjusted his glasses with evident uncertainty.

"The recent vulnerability in Paulo's security systems has... well, it's been catastrophic for Frourio. Thousands of homes have been breached, and the public outcry has crippled their market share. Their stock has plummeted 45% in the last three days."

Nico's expression remained unchanged. "And what's their next move?"

"From what we've gathered, they're scrambling to patch the vulnerability, but the damage is done. They don't have the resources to handle this on their own."

Her manicured nails maintained a measured rhythm against the glass surface.

The executives exchanged weighted glances.

"Are you suggesting... a buyout?" Karen inquired.

Nico reclined marginally. "Frourio is bleeding. The question is whether they'll survive long enough for someone else to swoop in and save them."

Martin seized the opening. "If we move fast, we can buy them out at a fraction of their original valuation. We can integrate Paulo's tech—"

"The tech is flawed," Nico interrupted, her tone liquid steel. "We don't need to integrate it. See if any of the staff can be repurposed but otherwise let it die."

Silence descended. The executives had grown accustomed to Nico's ruthless efficiency, yet her casual dismissal of entire corporate entities—watching them wither to feed Solace's expansion—gave even veteran board members pause.

Karen ventured forward. "There are still PR considerations to keep in mind. The public already sees us as a monopoly. If we make another acquisition—especially in light of Paulo's failure—it could fuel more backlash."

Nico's gaze returned to the muted screen, where the protest continued its silent performance, the speaker's raised fist conducting an unheard symphony of dissent.

"They'll scream," she said with glacial certainty, "and then they'll go back to using Nova because they have no other choice."

She rose, marking the discussion's conclusion. "Move forward with the acquisition. And keep it quiet. I don't want this on the evening news."

The executives collected their materials as Nico strode toward the exit, her authority lingering in the space like frost.