The performance began at 8:05 AM on Monday. Evelyn walked into Charles Sterling’s office without an appointment, her face a masterpiece of controlled, icy fury. She didn’t sit.
“He’s impossible,” she stated, her voice vibrating with a sharp, convincing edge. “The Harringtons’ approval has gone to his head. He’s making unilateral changes to the structural schematics, calling them ‘refinements.’ He’s ignoring the approved budget. I cannot work with him, Charles. Not like this. The project will fail.”
Charles leaned back, steepling his fingers, his expression one of feigned concern. “Evelyn, the synergy you two had—”
“Was an act of professional desperation,” she cut in, the lie tasting like ash but delivered flawlessly. “It’s frayed. The personal… complications… are creating an untenable w
