Evening had settled over the city when the conference room door at Evans Group headquarters opened slowly. Ana entered, holding her breath, her face pale and her steps hurried. In her trembling hands, she clutched her work phone like a lifeline.
Jonathan remained slumped in his chair, exhaustion etched deep into every line of his face. His hollow gaze fixed on the projector screen, where the weekly transparency charts remained half-finished, abandoned like so many of his hopes lately. Around him, his team—Sarah, Marcus, and David—were deeply engrossed in discussing crisis mitigation plans, their voices creating a low buzz of urgent conversation.
Ana stepped forward and unlocked her phone, her fingers fumbling with the device. "Excuse me, sir," her voice trembled like autumn leaves in the
