Monday morning in the Thorne architectural office was a lesson in atmospheric pressure. I walked in, my confidence from the Henderson deal still humming in my veins, expecting, if not an apology for his outburst, at least a nod of professional acknowledgement. I wore that energy like a suit of armor—head high, shoulders back, ready to keep the momentum going.
Julian was already at his desk. I marched in, files in hand, a confident smile ready to break. "Good morning, Mr. Thorne. I’ve started the next phase of the project, and I think we should—"
He didn't look up. He didn't even blink. He continued writing, his pen scratching against the paper like a serrated blade. "Put the files on the stack. Then, I want the entire digital archive from 2022 to present re-indexed."
I paused, my sm
