Monday bled into Tuesday in a blur of harsh lighting, muted footsteps, and Clara’s stubborn determination. The Wolfe Enterprises building hummed with its usual clinical precision, but beneath that rhythm lurked a sharp undercurrent of fear. People whispered less, eyes darted more, and silence reigned like a second boss above Nicholas Wolfe himself. Clara felt it pressing against her shoulders as she sat at her desk in the fashion division, carefully aligning every document, triple-checking every memo, daring not to breathe too loudly.
Nicholas had been on edge for days. Since returning from the gala and the fallout that followed, he had fired two secretaries, one after three hours and another after three days, each dismissal as swift and merciless as the man himself. No warning. No explan
