Amelia's POV
The executive floor is filled with expensive and new computers.
I've been in this elevator for thirty-seven floors, watching numbers climb, wondering if I'm ascending or falling. My reflection on the polished doors shows no cracks.
Fortieth floor. Daniel's domain.
His assistant—new since my time, someone who doesn't know me as anything but an appointment—gestures toward familiar double doors.
"Mr. Sterling is expecting you, Ms. Hart."
I smooth my suit. Check my bag for the tablet loaded with supplementary data. One breath. Two. Then I push through doors I used to enter without knocking, into a space I used to know as intimately as my own reflection.
The office hasn't changed.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Sleek desk—the same one where I'd perch while
