The next morning, Canna left for the office very early as he had a meeting with important clients. Canna sat behind his desk, reviewing a financial report, but something kept nagging at him. It wasn’t the numbers, the numbers were fine, better than fine actually. It was the subtle shifts around him, the way the team moved, the way the assistants exchanged glances when he walked by, the low murmurs that seemed to vanish the moment he approached.
He tried to ignore it at first, he had learned long ago that suspicion and paranoia could ruin the clarity of judgment. But over the last few days, it has become harder to dismiss. Orders he had given were being delayed, instructions were being misinterpreted, and the usual efficiency he expected had slipped into what felt like careless laziness.
