Later that night, back in the private office—
Emily paced slowly across the room.
"He was right there."
Alexander stood near the window.
Calm again.
Always calm.
"Too easy," he said.
Emily stopped.
"What?"
"He wanted to be seen."
Emily frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does," Alexander replied.
"When you want your opponent to underestimate you."
Emily stared at him.
"You think that's what he's doing?"
Alexander turned.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then Emily said quietly:
"So what are we missing?"
Alexander looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Then said:
"We're thinking like defenders."
Emily's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And we need to think like him."
A pause.
Then she asked:
"And how does he think?"
Alexander's voice dropped.
"Like someone who already believes he's going to win."
That thought stayed in the room.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Because if that was true—
Then this wasn't just a fight.
It was a game already in progress.
With moves already made.
And outcomes already planned.
Emily looked at Alexander.
Then said quietly:
"Then we change the ending."
For the first time in a long while—
He smiled.
Not cold.
Not distant.
But real.
"Yes," he said.
"We do."