Donna parked the car in front of MAC Building and walked through the doors. The security guard stopped her and asked for her name and ID. She obliged by reaching in her bag for her wallet as she said, “Donna Marshall.” She knew her ID still said Quinton, but Greg’s security staff should be privy to that basic knowledge. “Mrs. Marshall!” he handed her ID back quickly. “My apologies for holding you here- protocol,” he explained. “Would you like an escort?” She smiled and declined. She walked to the express elevator, stepped inside and went directly to the top floor of the futuristic seven-storey building. The receptionist appeared to be on her way out. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for business today, ma’am. I’m the last one in.” “It’s ok. I’m here to see my husband. My name is Donna.”
