“The man built a billion-dollar empire. I wouldn’t call that weak.”
“I didn’t say he was weak. I said his weaknesses are obvious.” I pull up Hansen’s file on the tablet. “Derek cares for his daughters, I’ll admit that much. But he loves money and power more. He’s addicted to it.”
“Like you’re not?” Penn challenges.
I ignore the comparison. “The difference is I recognize my addictions. Derek believes his actions are justified because they’re wrapped in the veneer of family legacy. Everything he does, including this arranged marriage, is about expanding his empire, not securing his daughters’ happiness.”
“You think Aurora knows that?”
“She suspects. Olivia is blinded by daddy’s approval.” I scroll through Hansen’s psychological profile. “That’s why Derek chose her for this arrangement. She’s malleable, eager to please. Aurora would have questioned his motives.”
“So you’re banking on Derek’s greed outweighing his paternal instincts when this all goes to hell?”
I look up from the tablet. “It’s not banking when it’s a certainty. The man auctioned off his own daughter in a business merger disguised as an engagement. When faced with choosing between his empire and his daughters’ feelings, Derek will always choose power.”
Penn frowns. “Cold assessment.”
“It’s accurate. I respect Derek’s business acumen, but let’s not pretend this arrangement was born from anything but mutual gain. He wants my technology patents and market position. I wanted...” I pause, recalibrating. “I initially wanted his political connections.”
“And now?”
I set down the tablet. “Now I want something he values far less than his empire.”
“Hansen is here,” Penn confirms, checking the security feed.
I nod, watching as the door to the testing chamber slides open. Hansen steps inside with measured movements, his gaze immediately taking in every detail of the room.
Unlike Sullivan, there’s no visible anxiety in his posture. His file indicated severe claustrophobia, but you wouldn’t know it from his composed demeanor. Interesting.
“This one might actually have potential,” I murmur, studying his face on the monitor.
The testing chamber is one of my more elegant creations. It’s a perfect twelve-by-twelve room with hydraulic walls that can reduce the space to a three-foot cube at the press of a button. For someone with claustrophobia, it’s the ultimate nightmare.
I lean toward the microphone. “Mr. Hansen, welcome to your evaluation.” My voice echoes through the chamber. “As you’ve been informed, each candidate must face their greatest fear. Yours is rather straightforward.”
Hansen doesn’t flinch. No nervous tic, no rapid breathing. There is nothing to betray the anxiety he must be feeling.
“The walls will now begin to close in,” I continue. “They will stop when you use the safeword ‘terminate.’ But using it means termination from the selection process as well. Understood?”
“Understood,” Hansen replies, his voice steady.
I press the button to initiate the sequence. The hydraulic hiss fills the room as all four walls begin their slow advance.
Most candidates immediately track the walls, their eyes darting frantically as their breathing accelerates. Not Hansen. He stares dead ahead, almost in a trance, as if the walls aren’t moving at all.
“Impressive,” Penn mutters. “Think he’s using some sort of meditation technique?”
I observe Hansen’s unchanging expression as the room shrinks around him. “Perhaps. Or he’s completely dissociating.”
Either way, I’m becoming increasingly confident that Hansen won’t break. Even as the space contracts to half its original size, a point where Sullivan would have been screaming, Hansen remains still, his face a mask of perfect control.
“This one’s different,” I say quietly. “One of the strongest candidates I’ve seen in a while.”
The walls continue to close in, now compressing the space to barely six feet square. Most candidates would be hyperventilating by now. Hansen’s breathing remains measured, controlled. His eyes stay fixed on a single point as the walls inch closer.
Four feet square. The room is now smaller than an elevator. Still nothing from Hansen.
Penn leans forward, fascination overtaking his usual bored expression. “How much further will you push him?”
