V-03: The Manhattan Cut
The coffee in the deli was burnt, a bitter sludge that matched the mood of the morning. The air in Mid-town was thick with the smell of exhaust, wet asphalt, and the palpable, electric hum of ambition. Marcus checked his watch. 8:14 AM. He had exactly six minutes before the meeting that would define his quarter, and perhaps his entire career trajectory at the firm. Sarah was sitting across from...
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