Hale’s smile didn’t falter, but something calculating moved behind his eyes. “Which is exactly why I need my best strategist there. You have a way of grounding people, Norah. You make them feel safe and certain. Even Morris trusts your analysis. You should be proud.
“I can see you’re tired,” he said gently. “Did you have a good time at the wedding? Did this boyfriend of yours attend?” He waggled his eyebrows as though he were her father, teasing her about a new love interest.
She flushed. “Oh, well, I?—”
“That’s lovely, Norah. I’m very happy for you. It’s about time you realized there is a whole world outside these doors. Summit is just a small part of a bigger picture.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if he was still talking about her social life.
“Actually, I didn’t—” she began.
He lifted a hand, gentle, dismissive. “Norah. You don’t owe me an explanation. You’ll bring him to the gala. These events can be dreary without someone to keep you company.” His smile widened. “And it never hurts to demonstrate stability.”
Stability. Bring him.
Her pulse thudded once, hard.
He didn’t care who the boyfriend was, whether he existed, whether the relationship was real. He just cared about the photo. The narrative. The alignment. He’d already slotted her into the evening like a prop on a stage he believed he owned.
“I don’t know if he’s available,” she said carefully, even though she already knew Marshall had no intention of letting her go alone.
“Well, make him available.” Hale rounded the desk again, reclaiming his spot with the ease of a man returning to his throne. “A brilliant woman with a promising future...What man wouldn’t want to stand beside that?”
She managed a smile she didn’t feel. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Excellent.” Hale reached for his mouse, already shifting back to his emails, dismissing her without fully saying so. “And Norah?”
She paused at the door, hand on the handle.
His voice softened—too soft, too measured. “Let the noise around NorthBridge go. We’re on the cusp of something extraordinary. Truly. Focus on what’s ahead of you, not shadows on the wall.”
Her breath stuck.
Shadows on the wall. The word tugged at too many things — the break-in, the missing notebook, the unease she couldn’t name. But she reminded herself that Hale didn’t know about any of that. He couldn’t. She was drowning in shadows, and he was telling her to ignore them.
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll keep my attention where it needs to be.”
“Good girl.”
The words stung. They weren’t sinister but condescending in a way that surprised her coming from him.
She kept her face still and stepped into the hall before anything showed.
Only when the door clicked shut behind her did she let her lungs expand. The hallway felt too bright. She was rattled—not by Richard’s intentions, she told herself, but by how quickly he’d waved off her concerns.
She started walking.
She didn’t know where she was headed yet. Perhaps her office, the restroom, or even a stairwell where she could breathe for thirty seconds.
Hale wasn’t listening. Hale wasn’t seeing what she was seeing.
He wasn’t listening because he didn’t believe there was anything to hear.
Norah retreated to her desk, heart still racing. She opened the folder and pretended to read, but her eyes kept drifting to the reflection in the glass. The office stretched behind her, full of people who might be watching.
She told herself she was being paranoid. Logic told her she was spiraling. Richard was her mentor. Her supporter. A man who’d built his career on caution and ethics. Everything he’d ever taught her pointed away from corruption. She told herself Richard had reasons for what he’d said.
He couldn’t be part of the ruthless Syndicate that Marshall had told her about.
