By eleven, the floor was humming like a police hive. I’d taken my usual seat at the front bar, laptop open, posture calm. People passed, glanced, moved on. Boring, on purpose.
Ken pinged me.
Ken: Heads-up. Young woman at the lobby desk asking for you by name. Says she’s family. Recording on her phone. Want me to redirect?
Me: I’ll come down. Neutral room only. Please call HR and… him.
Maya materialized with her coat already on. “Field trip?”
“Witness,” I said.
We took the stairs. My pulse was steady until we hit the last turn and I heard the voice. Young. Rigid with certainty.
“You’re letting her hide behind policies.”
“I’m letting everyone follow them,” Ken said, even as he opened the small conference room by security. “Phones off in here.”
She stepped in before we did. Dark hair
