This isn’t your typical, feel-good sales book. This is war—and you're either closing deals or getting closed. Victor Kane isn’t just a master manipulator; he’s a predator in a tailored suit, someone who enjoys the psychological destruction he leaves behind: The office smelled of fear. Victor Kane could always tell. It had a different scent than sweat—thicker, almost metallic. Desperation was the same in every language, and tonight, it was rolling off Jerry Finch in waves. Victor smiled. Slow. Calculated. Like a snake tasting the air before the strike. Across the desk, Finch gripped the pen like it was the last thing tethering him to reality. His eyes darted between the contract and the clock on the wall, like time itself could save him. Victor let him have his illusions. They made the fall even sweeter. “I just… I need to think about it,” Finch stammered. Victor exhaled slowly, shaking his head with the kind of deep, practiced disappointment that could make anyone crumb...