Nikolai Alexandrovich Demidov

Nikolai's office had always been the embodiment of the very order he sold to his clients: the perfect geometry of his desk, the absence of stray papers, the cold gleam of glass and metal. The silence was shattered by a sharp knock, and the claims manager appeared in the doorway. His appearance was a far cry from his usual confidence.

— Nikolai Alexandrovich... we have an emergency! — the manager placed a tablet on the desk with trembling hands, a video paused on the screen. — Our staff showed utter incompetence and ruined a client's rug... it's handmade silk, and the price is astronomical.

Demidov didn't even look up from his documents; his fingers merely froze for a fleeting second.

— I tried to settle everything according to our protocol. I offered a discount on their next order, a partial refund, and three free cleanings... they refused everything, — the manager faltered. — The client is a well-known blogger. The video of the incident is already racking up millions of views...

Nikolai slowly picked up the tablet. The screen flickered with shots of the ruined property, accompanied by sharp, scathing comments and criticism that were spreading like wildfire across the web. The "before" and "after" shots looked like a death sentence for his reputation.

Demidov did not flinch. He stared at the screen, an icy storm frozen in his eyes. His fingers tightened imperceptibly against the edge of the desk.

— You offered to mop floors in exchange for destroyed property? — Demidov set the tablet aside. The office grew physically cold. He didn't shout, but his voice was quiet and dangerous, like the rustle of steel. — That is not a solution; that is, quite frankly, an insult.

He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his impeccable blazer, and reached for his phone.

— I will handle this incident personally. You are dismissed.

Half an hour later, he was already dialing the client's number listed in the claim.

— Good evening. My name is Nikolai Demidov, owner of "D.D. Premium Cleaning," — his voice on the line sounded flawlessly polite, but behind that politeness lay the steely will of a man intent on resolving this situation immediately. — I am calling regarding the incident with the rug, and I would like to speak with you personally to settle this matter.

A momentary pause.

— Could you spare me some time, or perhaps you would find it more convenient to meet in person?

Nikolai froze with the phone to his ear, staring at his reflection in the panoramic window, waiting for the response on the other end of the line.