The Glass Wall

THE REASSIGNMENT

Chapter 4

The text message sat on Julian's phone like a paperweight.

"That must be lonely."

He had read it seventeen times. Not because he didn't understand it. Because he didn't understand why it made his chest feel tight.

Maya Torres had asked him a question no one asked. Not his board members, who wanted his strategy. Not his investors, who wanted his returns. Not the women at charity galas, who wanted his last name. Not even his COO, who had known him for eight years and still didn't know that Julian ate dinner alone in his penthouse five nights a week.

"It is."

He had answered honestly. That was the problem. He had answered like she was a person instead of an employee. Like he was a person instead of a CEO.

He needed to stop.

The next week was a study in avoidance.

Julian took the east stairwell instead of the west. He had his assistant bring lunch to his office instead of walking to the executive cafeteria. He scheduled back-to-back calls during the hours he knew Maya stayed late.

He told himself he was being responsible. Protecting her from gossip. Protecting himself from distraction.

On Thursday afternoon, his COO, a blunt woman named Patricia Chen, walked into his office without knocking.

"You're avoiding the legal department," Patricia said, dropping into the chair across from his desk.

"I'm not avoiding anything."

"Three vendors have complained that our contract turnaround is slow. I asked legal why. They said their senior paralegal is overloaded because a junior paralegal was pulled off a major file." Patricia raised an eyebrow. "That junior paralegal is Maya Torres. The one whose work you slipped into the McKinnon meeting last week."

Julian's jaw tightened. "I didn't slip anything in. Her work was excellent. I used it."

"Semantics." Patricia leaned forward. "Look, I don't care if you have a crush on a paralegal. I care that our vendors are unhappy. Either put her back on the file she was taken off of, or tell me you're too compromised to be objective, and I'll handle it."

"I'm not compromised."

"Then prove it. Go down to legal. Fix the assignment. And stop skulking around like a teenager."

Patricia stood and walked out before Julian could respond.

He sat in silence for a full minute.

Then he stood, straightened his tie, and walked toward the west stairwell.

The legal department at 4:00 PM was a different world than 9:00 PM.

Phones rang. Copy machines hummed. Attorneys walked past with coffee cups and tense expressions. Julian hadn't spent much time here legal was infrastructure, not strategy and his presence caused immediate ripples.

People straightened. Whispered. Stared.

He ignored them and walked to the cubicle in the back corner.

Maya was on the phone. She looked up, saw him, and went pale.

"I have to call you back," she said into the receiver, and hung up. "Mr. Thorne. Is something wrong?"

"No." He pulled the chair from the neighboring desk the same one he'd sat in three nights ago and sat down. "You've been taken off the McKinnon file."

It wasn't a question. Her expression told him everything.

"Denise Harlow reassigned me," Maya said carefully. "She's senior. It was her decision."

"Was it a good decision?"

Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then she shook her head. "No. But I don't get to make that call."

"You do now." Julian pulled out his phone, typed a quick message, and put it away. "I just reassigned the file back to you. Denise will focus on the Peterson accounts. You'll report directly to the supervising attorney on McKinnon."

Maya stared at him. "You can't do that."

"I just did."

"You'll make enemies. Denise has been here twelve years. People will say you're playing favorites."

"They're already saying that." He held her gaze. "I'd rather they say it for a reason that's true."

Maya's cheeks flushed. "I never asked for special treatment."

"I know." He stood. "That's why you're getting it."

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Mr. Thorne."

He looked back.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "But please. Don't come down here again. People notice. And I can't afford to be noticed."

Julian wanted to argue. He wanted to say that she deserved to be noticed that her work was too good for the shadows, that her mind was wasted on cubicles and coffee runs.

Instead, he nodded.

"You're right," he said. "I'll communicate through Patricia from now on."

He walked away before she could see his face.

Because he wasn't sure he could keep his expression neutral if he stayed another second.

That night, Julian couldn't sleep.

He lay in his penthouse, staring at the ceiling, the city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The bed was too large. The room was too quiet. The silence was too loud.

He picked up his phone.

"You told me to stop coming down there. You didn't tell me to stop texting."

He stared at the message for thirty seconds. Then he deleted it without sending.

He typed something else.

"The McKinnon contract is back in your hands. Denise will be difficult. Don't let her push you around."

Delete.

"I've been lonely for ten years. I didn't realize how much until you asked."

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Finally, he put the phone down and closed his eyes.

He didn't sleep. But he thought about her about the way she said "That must be lonely" like she actually wanted to know the answer until the sun came up.