"Christopher's POV" My mornings ran like clockwork. Seven fifteen, I was already at my desk reviewing the overnight reports before most of my staff had even parked their cars. Seven forty-five, coffee, black, no sugar, while I worked through the market updates. Eight sharp, I pulled up my calendar and moved through the day the same way I moved through everything else: with precision, without deviation, without space for anything that didn't belong. That was how I operated. That was how Golden Anchor Homes had become what it was, because I didn't let things slip, didn't allow distractions to take root, didn't give myself the kind of softness that cost men like me everything. Every hour served a purpose. Every decision traced back to something deliberate and controlled. That discipline was not incidental to who I was, it was the entire foundation of my life, and I had built it that way on purpose, brick by careful brick, for a very long time. I had a facilities walkthrough pencill
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