“Ms.Sinclair.” He crossed the room in long, confident strides.
I met him halfway, bracing for the usual contest. The grip, the squeeze, the silent question. His hand closed around mine with firm pressure, then released at the exact right moment. No test. No performance.
“Mr.Holt,” I replied evenly, disguising my surprise. “Welcome to Elion.”
“Thank you for hosting us.” Holt’s attention traveled the room once, cataloging the screens, the table layout, the view, before returning to me. “There’s a lot of energy here,” he added. “It’s clear you’ve built something real.”
“We’re proud of what we’ve done. We’re hoping you’ll see why.”
“I already do,” he answered simply, then shifted so I could introduce my team.
“Chief Strategy, Jennifer Capolli. CTO, Kevin Smith. Legal, David Broughton.”
He shook each hand in turn, attention clean and direct. No lingering on Jennifer. No dismissing David when he heard “legal.” No wrinkling his nose at the faint scent of spit-up emanating from Kevin.
He took the chair across from mine. Maria and Tessa took seats on either side of him.
Sarah reappeared at the edge of the room. “Can I get anyone coffee? Water?”
Holt opened his portfolio. “Coffee, please.”
“Water,” Morgan replied with an easy smile.
“Water’s fine,” Chen added bluntly.
Sarah slipped out, and the room settled into a low hum: the rustle of paper, portfolios snapped open, pens scribbling across paper.
Sarah returned a minute later with a tray—coffee for Holt, water for Morgan and Chen. The smell of fresh coffee cut through the stale air as she distributed them.
He took a sip, gave a brief nod of approval, and set the cup within easy reach. “Shall we?”
“That sounds lovely,” I agreed, settling into place.
The presentation found its rhythm quickly. The numbers lived in my bones by now; I didn’t have to chase them. I focused on the arc instead—what Elion actually solved, why retention mattered more than shiny acquisition graphs, where we’d chosen depth over empty scale.
Jennifer slid in at the right beats, layering strategy over narrative, tightening the picture. Kevin translated the architecture into something a non-engineer could track without losing the nuances that gave us an edge. David came in when the path hit legal ground, turning risk into something Falkirk could live with instead of a reason to walk.
Morgan’s questions cut cleanly along lines of resourcing, sequencing, operational strain. Chen pressed on failure states and redundancy. Holt mostly watched, stepping in when he wanted a data point clarified or a slide revisited. His comments were brief, focused. No grandstanding.
By the time David closed his section, the air had shifted. Less skepticism. More attention.
Morgan folded her hands, fingertip touching the edge of her folder. “Next steps, then,” she said. “Assuming alignment holds, what’s your anticipated timetable to full partnership execution?”
Before I could answer, Chen flipped through her notes. “Given the integration scope, I’d estimate roughly six months from sign-off to full deployment,” she said. “Longer if Falkirk needs additional internal approvals or vendor review.”
Six months.
Out of the corner of my eye, Jennifer’s stylus paused mid-note. Kevin’s jaw tightened once before easing.
But I kept my expression even, preparing myself for the battle ahead.
“I don’t anticipate it taking that long,” Holt said, coming in before I opened my mouth.
Chen angled slightly toward him. “You don’t?”
He took an unhurried sip of coffee, then set the cup down. “Elion has already done the difficult work,” he said. “The foundation is clean. On our side, if we commit to a single path, we can fast-track internal review. If intent is mutual, we can have a signed partnership in two months. Possibly sooner.”
Two months.
