The elevator's mechanical hum feels different this morning, its familiar rhythm altered by secrets that cling to my skin like expensive perfume. I arrive at the office before dawn breaks over the city's glass towers, my heels clicking against marble with the measured precision of someone who has spent the night making dangerous alliances. The building's silence wraps around me like velvet, broken only by the distant whisper of ventilation systems and the electronic heartbeat of computers maintaining their digital vigil. Lucas's scent has faded from my clothes, but the memory of cedar and rain lingers in my enhanced senses, a reminder of the portfolio now locked in my home safe and the promise of dinner that feels both thrilling and terrifying.
My office door swings open to reveal a sanctu
