Diane’s office felt smaller with Mr. Hayes in it. The man carried authority the way some people carried briefcases, an invisible weight that altered the atmosphere of any room he occupied. He sat across from Diane’s desk, his posture rigid, his hands folded on the polished wood surface with the kind of control that came from decades of refusing to let anyone see weakness. His suit was immaculate, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes, probably cost more than Nathan made in a month. Everything about him projected power and composure.Nathan wasn’t present for the meeting. Diane had insisted on that, said this needed to be attorney-to-attorney, professional and clean. But she’d called Nathan afterward, walked him through every detail while it was still fresh in her mind.“I played the recording first thing,” Diane had told him, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction Nathan was starting to recognize. “Didn’t waste time with pleasantries or preamble. Just set up the tablet, pressed play