In the Raffles Place.
Timothy walked into the lobby of the law firm with a folder tucked under his arm, blazer on because Ms. Lim had told him to take the bankers seriously. His hoodie was folded and pushed into the backpack like a secret from his past life.
The reception area smelled faintly of coffee and leather. A junior associate greeted him with the sort of politeness that never reached the eyes. Ms. Lim appeared from a glass-walled conference room, already in motion. She smiled the small, economical smile of people who knew how to make big things happen without theatre.
"Good morning, Mr. Guerrero," she said, and gestured toward the conference room. "We'll walk through the corporate documents again before we execute. The banker will join us in thirty minutes."
