The story did not wait for a proper morning. It was already on a gossip site when Ann reached the lobby, a short piece with a headline that had decided what she was before she had taken off her jacket.
An internal memo, or something dressed as one, sat in the middle of it: intern assigned to the CEO’s floor, late hours logged, a note about “continued proximity after official close.” Her name was spelled correctly. That was the part that made it feel less like a rumor and more like a hand that had been inside the building.
People in the elevator tried not to look at her and failed. On the forty-eighth floor the glass desk looked suddenly like evidence. Rhea was already there, phone to her ear, expression carved down to damage control.
“Try not to take calls from people you don’t know,” R
