“Don’t overreact.”
Julian said it quietly, almost gently, as if volume were the variable that determined escalation. They stood in his office, door closed, glass walls dimmed to opaque at his command. The city moved beyond them in blurred lines of light.
Evelyn didn’t sit.
“I’m not,” she replied.
His gaze tracked her face, searching for fracture. “It’s been volatile. The coverage, the board response. Anyone would feel—”
“Displaced?” she offered.
“Exposed,” he corrected smoothly. “Under strain.”
There it was again. The hierarchy embedded in tone. He wasn’t addressing the facts. He was calibrating her reaction to them.
“I’m aware of the strain,” she said.
“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “That’s why I’m asking you to be careful.”
Careful. Not precise. Not strategic.
Emotional c
