The elevator ride is silent. No one speaks to me. Someone checks their phone with exaggerated focus. Another person adjusts their jacket like they’ve forgotten how to stand.
When the doors open onto the executive floor, Jamie looks up immediately.
Her expression is composed. Professional. Impeccably neutral.
No warmth.
No edge.
Which is worse.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Morning,” I reply.
She doesn’t ask how I am. Doesn’t comment on the headlines or the meeting on my calendar that’s been blocked in red since last night.
Board of Directors – Emergency Session
10:00 a.m.
“There are printed copies of the agenda in your office,” Jamie says. “Legal will meet you there at nine-thirty.”
“Thank you.”
She nods once and looks back to her screen.
No commentary.
No subtext.
Just the job.
I walk into my office and close the door.
For the first time since Friday, the silence is complete.
I don’t sit right away.
I stand at the window instead, looking down at the city I usually feel insulated from up here. Cars move. People cross streets. Someone is laughing on the sidewalk below, oblivious.
The contrast makes my jaw tighten.
At nine-thirty, Legal arrives.
At ten, the boardroom doors close behind me.
The table is full.
Every seat occupied. Every face familiar. Some sympathetic. Some tight. Some openly assessing, like they’re recalculating the value of something they thought they understood.
No one wastes time.
The chair clears his throat. “Let’s begin.”
They don’t raise their voices.
They don’t accuse.
