Clad
"Finance Team 2."
The room is tense as the finance director straightens his tie, shuffling papers in front of him.
"We've drawn up most of the budgets for the next racing season," he announces, his voice steady but lacking conviction. "So far, everything looks to be within the expected bracket."
I lean back in my chair, watching him with a cold gaze. "Is that good or bad?"
He hesitates, glancing around the boardroom as if seeking reassurance. "Eh, well, it's good," he mutters uncertainly.
I narrow my eyes, letting the silence weigh down on him. "Is it?"
His Adam's apple bobs as he squirms in his seat. "Well, CEO—"
"Get it together, Blake," I cut him off sharply. "I don't need uncertainty in my team. If you can't confidently stand by your numbers, how do you expect the racers to trust in their funding? Indecisiveness and hesitation are weaknesses in this sport, and I don't have room for either."
