GAVIN
The glass walls of my office reflect everything—skyline, morning haze, the hard line of my jaw as I stand behind my desk trying to exhale Parker out of my system. It doesn’t work. I adjust the cuff of my shirt and stare down at the tablet in my hands, but none of the numbers register. There’s a buzzing under my skin that won’t stop.
The elevator audio leaked over the weekend, and I haven’t stopped bracing for impact since. No video. Just sound. Enough to spark headlines and social media threads about power dynamics and after-hours indiscretions.
I handled it the way I handle everything—with control. Got Jack to handle security. Told legal to issue takedowns. Prepped a board memo about internal sabotage from a rival firm.
But none of that fixes the most inconvenient truth of all.
