ALEXANDER
She shifted nervously in front of my desk, her frame tense, her hands wringing the hem of her shirt as if the fabric could anchor her.
Maya wasn’t the sort I imagined at the heart of a conspiracy. She was timid, soft-spoken, with the kind of wide eyes that made her look constantly startled by the world around her.
But that didn’t matter. If she had overheard something and let it slip, whether by malice or accident, then she had become a problem, and I needed to call her to order.
I didn’t want to believe it, but I couldn’t ignore it either.
“Maya,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Before I ask the question, I want you to understand something very clearly. I did not call you here to frighten you. I did not call you here to punish you. What I want from you is the trut
