The psychological evaluation took place in a sterile room buried three floors beneath the Agency’s Geneva office. The air felt recycled, stale, as if it had been breathed too many times before. No windows. No decoration. Just a metal table, two chairs, and silence that pressed against the walls.Ethan sat upright, his posture controlled, his expression blank.Across from him, Dr. Sarah Reeves studied him with quiet intensity.She looked to be in her fifties, her steel-gray hair pulled back neatly, her sharp eyes steady and unblinking. Those eyes had seen everything. Lies, hesitation, guilt, denial. They carried the weight of twenty years spent dismantling operatives who thought they were unbreakable.She tapped her pen lightly against her notepad, then lifted her gaze to him.“Tell me about the dinner party,” she said calmly, her voice precise and measured.Ethan leaned back slightly, folding his hands together. “It was controlled,” he replied evenly, choosing each word with care. “Ca