Julian paced the living room's Persian rug, scotch in hand. His mind churning the day's fractures.
The board's retention felt hollow, R Corporation's rejection a thorn, but Calder's shove in his office burned hottest.
that precise pull, Eleanor's protective stance, their shared laughter over greasy pork. "Who is he?"
Eleanor had retreated early, exhaustion claiming her after hours dissecting audits with Calder in her temp office.
She collapsed on the guest suite's bed around 7 PM, door ajar, breaths even in sleep, her form curled under silk duvet, that subtle radiance undimmed even in repose.
Julian had hovered briefly, tempted to join, to bridge the chasm with whispered pleas. But her rejection at the château lingered, a wall. Instead, he texted Sophia. "Come. Need to talk."
The
