PASCAL
The boardroom emptied slowly, like the aftertaste of bitter wine. Their polished shoes clicked against the marble floor, their voices murmuring in low tones that trailed off as they left. The silence they left behind felt heavier than their presence.
Kendra stood near the far end of the table, her hands gathering her papers too quickly, too tightly, as though the crisp sheets might anchor her. She moved with purpose, but I could see the slight tremor in her fingers, the way her shoulders pulled in a fraction as if to shield herself.
She had held her own in there, yes. But I had also watched the exact moment her confidence began to crack.
I leaned against the table, arms folded, taking her in. The way she wouldn’t look at me, the way her lips pressed together so tightly the color
