The Edge of Glass
The office air had a taste that day. Bitter. Processed. Like stale coffee and filtered lies.
No one said anything out loud, but Calla could feel it—like fog pressed against the glass walls of her skin. The kind that doesn’t lift with daylight. She walked into Bell Enterprise with her shoulders squared, wearing the soft gray blazer she usually saved for meetings, trying to look like someone who hadn’t spent the night unearthing numbers she didn’t remember authorizing.
She hadn’t slept. Not well. Not since the whisper.
The whisper came in the form of a message—an anonymous number, two lines:
Check page 13. You’re not safe. Trust no one.
That was it.
It should’ve been absurd. Could’ve been a prank. But her gut didn’t think so. And when she reopened the audit packet sh
