The laptop chimed at four, and Serena took the call standing.
"Serena," Victor Lindqvist said, his face filling the screen from a bright office. "Thank you for making time during preview week. I know what this week costs you."
"You have my calendar, Victor," she said. "You know exactly what it costs."
He smiled, unoffended. "Then I will be brief. Halcyon has revisited the term sheet. We can add three percent to the valuation, and we can hold the design studio language exactly as your counsel drafted it."
"Three percent," she said.
"A modest bump, given the strength of the quarter," he said. "A gesture. We heard you. The studio stays yours in spirit, even under our roof."
"In spirit," she said. "That is a careful phrase."
"It is an honest one," he said. "You keep creative direction for five years. Your team stays intact. Theo, Meg, everyone who matters. We are buying what you built because we cannot build it ourselves."
"Built, not bought," she said, quieter than she meant to.
"I remember your motto," he said. "I also remember you have not signed."
The stopwatch sat on the desk beside the laptop, silver gone soft at the edges. She did not touch it while he could see her.
"Monday remains the deadline," Victor said. "After Monday, the board reallocates. I cannot protect the number, or the studio language, if we drift past it. I say that as information, not pressure."
"It lands as pressure," she said.
"Then forgive the landing," he said. "I would rather be clear now than apologetic later."
She nodded once. "What else."
"Tonight," he said. "The private viewing. Press will be watching, even the press you did not invite. Headlines this week could cut either way. A strong night helps everyone. A difficult night, and questions start asking themselves. Who is steering Corvina. That sort of thing."
"Are you warning me about my own party, Victor."
"I am noting that timing has a voice," he said. "Yours should be the loudest one in the room."
"I have read the revised pages," she said at last. "I understand the bump, and I understand Monday. I am not signing tonight, and I am not refusing tonight. You will have my answer when I can give you a real one."
"That is fair," he said. "It is also the same answer as Tuesday."
"It is the true one," she said. "Would you prefer a faster lie."
"No," he said, and his smile changed. "Take the weekend, Serena. Walk your floor. See your car under its own lights. Then decide what it is worth to keep holding the wheel yourself."
"You make holding it sound lonely," she said.
"I make it sound expensive," he said gently. "Good luck tonight."
The screen went dark. Her reflection stayed a second longer, tired and unsmiling, before that faded too.
Meg came in, a folder against her chest. "Well," she said. "Did the polished man polish."
"He added three percent," Serena said. "And reminded me Monday is Monday, and that tonight could go beautifully or badly in public."
"Classic Victor," Meg said. "A velvet glove with a calendar inside it. Are you tempted."
"I am tired," Serena said. "That is not the same thing, and it scares me that they look alike."
Meg set the folder down and did not open it. "Then hear me, love. Decide with a clear head, not in the middle of tonight's storm. Not after Karp smiles at you. Not after whatever walks through that Pavilion door in expensive shoes. Tonight is noise. Monday is a signature. Keep them separate."
"You think I am rushing," Serena said.
"I think you are cornered by a week designed to corner you," Meg said. "By him, by the board, by this building and its memories. I have watched you build engines with more patience than this. Give the decision the same respect."
Serena picked up the stopwatch then. The metal was warm from the sun. She turned it over and read the words she already knew by touch. Make it honest.
"Elias taught my hands before he taught me anything else," she said. "In that rented garage, with my father not speaking to me and the rent due. He showed me how to listen to a machine until it told the truth. This company is those hands, Meg. It is every honest hour since. It is not a signature I will rush because a deadline tells me to feel rushed."
Meg's voice softened. "Then we go tonight, and we sign nothing."
"We go tonight," Serena said. "And we watch."
She dressed simply. A plain dark suit, no jewelry. Her hair pulled back. The stopwatch slipped into her pocket, its weight familiar against her hip, and she left for the Pavilion.
Chapter 13: Karp Sets the Table