The desk taught Ann what being seen cost.
By Wednesday she knew the footsteps that belonged to coffee runs and the ones that belonged to curiosity. She knew which assistants looked at her screen and which looked at the door behind her, hoping it would open and give the rumor a fresh scene.
Glass did that, it made ordinary work look like a secret.
Rhea came up at nine with a look that said she had already fought and lost.
“You will do real pages today,” Rhea said, dropping a folder that was heavier than copy work. “He asked for your eyes, not your presence. Do not confuse those.”
Ann opened it and saw client language, risk notes and a draft that had been written by someone who liked pretty sentences more than true ones.“This isn’t intern work.”
“No. It is the work that gets you blamed
