Harold sat in his office late into the evening, skimming through the stack of documents piled across his desk. His expression was fixed—unreadable. He had been here for hours, long past necessity, searching for something he was certain he would uncover in the company records.
Neon lights from the surrounding buildings cut through the glass wall across the room, casting their glow toward his desk and catching the midnight black of his eyes.
A laptop rested at his side, its screen casting a pale light across his face in the otherwise dim office.
He exhaled, pushed one folder aside, and reached for another. Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
"Who is it?" Harold asked flatly, not sparing so much as a glance in that direction. His tone betrayed how little interest he had in w
