"Mr. Morse," the woman at the center of the table says. Dr. Aris Thorne, Dean of the Business School, has eyes like lasers and a haircut sharp enough to slice bread. "You seem distracted."
"Just focused, ma'am," I say. "Taking in the room."
"Take in the question instead."
Shit. I wasn't listening. I was too busy staring at the way Sam's collar is barely covering my bite mark.
I bullshit an answer about adaptive parameters and regional variation. Thorne nods, unimpressed but not hostile.
Then Sterling leans forward, and the temperature in the room drops.
"We've read the proposals," Sterling says. "Both impressive. You're clearly the top candidates." His eyes flick to Sam's neck, to the spot where my mark is hiding. "Professor Foster speaks highly of your... collaboration."
He knows.
"But the Johnston is a solo seat," Sterling continues. "One position. One winner. So let's see how you perform when the gloves come off."
My stomach tightens.
"Mr. Sharma." Sterling's smile widens. "Critique Mr. Morse's proposal. Right now. Tell me what's wrong with it."
Sam's breath catches. "Sir?"
"You heard me. Tear it apart. Unless you don't think there are any flaws?"
It's a trap. We both know it. If Sam refuses, he looks weak. If he attacks me, Sterling gets his gladiator match.
I catch Sam's eye. Just for a second.
It's okay. Do what you have to do.
Something passes between us. Then Sam takes a breath, and I watch him transform.
The nervousness doesn't disappear, but he shoves it down. When he turns back to the panel, his eyes are sharp. He looks like my rival again.
"Devan's model is elegant," Sam begins. "Mathematically sound. He builds a beautiful structure."
"But?" Sterling prompts.
"But it's brittle." Sam's hands are steady now, gesturing as he talks. "He assumes people will act rationally in a crisis. They won't. His model shatters under real panic."
He turns to look at me. Not apologetic. Not cruel. Just honest.
"It's beautiful math," Sam says quietly. "But it doesn't account for the fact that people are messy and scared and stupid."
I stare at him. He's right. Three weeks of work, and he just found the one weakness I was blind to because I always assume logic will prevail.
Sterling is grinning.
"Mr. Morse? Response?"
I look at Sam. He's flushed, breathing fast, but his chin is up.
"He's right," I say. "I didn't weigh the behavioral component heavily enough."
Sterling's grin widens. "Good. Very good." He swivels toward me. "Now. Return the favor. Mr. Sharma's proposal," Sterling says. "It's... charming. Optimistic. Tell me why it's garbage."
I turn to Sam.
