The office hummed with its usual rhythm phones ringing, the low murmur of assistants exchanging schedules, the clicking of keyboards. Clara sat at her desk, determined to finish every last task before she left for the conference with Nicholas. It wasn’t just about professionalism; it was about proving to him, to the world, maybe even to herself that she could handle responsibility without faltering.
Her calendar was packed with color-coded notes: vendor confirmations, dinner reservations, and hotel arrangements for the Wolfe delegation. She triple-checked everything, fingers moving swiftly over her keyboard. The travel binder she had prepared was immaculate, organized down to the smallest detail. When she finally set the polished folder on Nicholas’s desk, she exhaled, a small swell of pr
