A D R I A N
The boardroom hums with low voices and clinking crystal, but the air feels sharpened, like the edge of a blade waiting for flesh. I know what they’ve been whispering since dinner. I heard it, too. Fire the doctor before Lantern Tide.
Now the investors sit around the quartz table, polished and gleaming as if it could blind us into agreement. Marina perches at the far end with her tablet, her coral smile sharpened to a warning. The CFO clears his throat like he’s already counted the costs. They expect me to swing the axe.
Elara sits opposite me, scrubs under a blazer, hair pulled back, eyes steady gray-green. She looks nothing like the investors in their linen suits and understated jewelry. And that’s exactly the problem. They see an outsider, a liability, someone who doesn
