Alice
The moment I stepped into the lobby, I was greeted by a cold yet polite, "Good afternoon, Ma'am," from the security guard. I simply nodded back, trying hard not to look as anxious as I felt while walking toward the reception area. High ceilings, glass walls, minimalist black-and-chrome interior. MobTech looked so high-end and intimidating that my nerves only tightened.
"How may I help you, Ma'am?" one of the two receptionists asked. She was smiling, but it was the kind of corporate smile that never even tried to reach her eyes.
"Can I ask where Mr. Lance Richardson's office is?" I asked, trying to sound calm even though my chest was slowly tightening with every second that passed.
The two women exchanged looks. One of those silent conversations you can practically see b
