I think about last night. Her body underneath mine, her nails raking down my back, the way she gasped my name when she came.
Then I think about the way she shut down when I tried to talk about the office situation.
She’s compartmentalizing. I recognize the technique because I invented it.
But compartments have a way of bursting open when you least expect it. Like scar tissue that seems healed until something tears it apart.
I force my attention back to the magazine. Read the article again. Look for anything I can use, any angle I can exploit.
Nothing. It’s a hit piece, pure and simple, and Martin played it perfectly.
The day drags on in a blur of damage control. Phone calls with nervous donors. A tense video conference with our clinic partners. Elspeth stopping by to update me on operational contingencies if the board votes to restructure.
Through it all, I’m aware of Bree at her desk. Taking calls. Managing my calendar. Being professional and competent and invisible.
Just like I taught her to be.
The irony is bitter enough to taste.
By seven o’clock, the floor has emptied out. Just me and the cleaningcrew and her.
As usual.
I’m standing at my window, watching the city lights flicker on, when I hear my office door open.
Bree walks in. She’s carrying something. A bound document.
She crosses to my desk and drops it in front of me. “This is what accountability looks like.”
Then she turns and walks out without another word.
I stare at the document for a moment. The cover page reads: “Rossi Foundation Restructuring Proposal: A Framework for Transparent Philanthropy.”
I pick it up. Start reading.
By page three, my eyebrows are climbing toward my hairline.
By page ten, I’ve sat down.
By page twenty, I’m reading so fast I have to go back and reread sections because I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
The proposal is brilliant. Fucking brilliant. She’s outlined a complete restructuring plan that splits the grant program into two legally separate entities. A nonprofit foundation with independent board oversight, completely divorced from the for-profit company. And the for-profit company that funds it transparently, with clear guidelines and public reporting.
It addresses every donor concern. Creates real accountability. Neutralizes Martin’s entire attack strategy.
I read it again from the beginning, looking for flaws. Legal vulnerabilities. Operational complications. Anything I can point to and say this won’t work.
I find nothing.
I set the document down and stare at it. Then I look through the glass walls at Bree’s empty desk. She left while I was reading. Just walked out without waiting for my reaction.
Because she didn’t need my approval. She knew it was good.
I’m going to see her tonight anyway at her apartment. But...
I grab my phone and text her.Come back to the office.
Three dots appear, then disappear. Then appear again.Why?
