The first day of the isolation order. The Risk Control Director's office was eerily quiet.
Darcy held her bone china coffee cup, her fingertip tracing the rim absently. The automated risk control models on her desk were running efficiently. Every directive from the top-floor CEO's office came through encrypted channels, cold, precise, stripped of any personal touch. No casual remarks. No lingering pauses. Just data and signatures.
This should have been the rhythm she was most accustomed to.
"I used to handle risk control data alone with much higher efficiency than this." Darcy made a cool, clinical assessment of herself.
But clearly, things had gone off course.
Only six hours had passed, yet the room felt unnervingly cold. The usual extra-strong black coffee in her hand tasted somehow
