Morning light spilled through the open window.
The chamber doors opened slowly. I didn't turn around. I kept walking, eyes fixed ahead, listening to the footsteps move toward me.
John. I knew his gait.
But there was someone with him. Someone whose steps didn't match the usual rhythm.
I stopped.
D.D.
John bowed low.
"We arrived late, Boss. My apolo—"
I raised my hand.
He cleared his throat and straightened.
"Save it."
D.D.'s eyes traveled the room before settling on me. He didn't bow. He didn't flinch. He just studied me, the way he always had — like I was a puzzle he'd already solved and was waiting for me to catch up.
That alone told me he hadn't changed.
"Still allergic to apologies, I see," he said.
I gave him a cold look.
"And you're still fond of arriving late."
A fain
