The office was on fire, figuratively, but barely. Phones were ringing off the hook, inboxes flooding with “urgent” in every subject line. Rachel was fielding calls at my door while three different department heads paced outside, whispering about optics and statements. The fallout from the press conference had officially detonated. And Ahmir wasn’t here to clean it up.
I hadn’t slept. Not really. Maybe an hour, maybe less. My head still hurt from crying, my throat still raw from shouting. But none of that mattered. Because when you’re the face of an empire, grief doesn’t grant you time off.
My laptop chimed again.
Subject: URGENT: Clarification Requested on Wolfe Strategic Transition
From: Board of Directors — Confidential
I didn’t even have to open it to know the tone was going to be
