Still, Lindsay's steady presence, her quiet reliability—it's gone deeper than I allowed myself to acknowledge. Lindsay doesn't create chaos. She absorbs it. Life runs smoother in her orbit.
Which is why, when she closes her tablet and pulls an envelope from her bag instead, my first reaction is irritation.
There must be a scheduling issue. A double booking, or a procedural hiccup she needs me to sign off on.
But then she smiles.
It's bright. Almost playful.
"I wanted to tell you in person," she says. "Before you hear it somewhere else."
She sets the envelope on my desk.
"I'm quitting."
The words barely register before she adds, lightly, "I won the lottery."
She winks.
For a moment, I don't respond.
My mind races through implications before my emotions catch up.
Numbers. Headlines. Exposure.
The kind of attention that chews people up and spits out headlines. I've seen it happen more times than I can count—lottery winners, sudden inheritors, people who stumble into wealth without the infrastructure to protect it.
Lindsay is still standing there, relaxed, watching my reaction like this is an inside joke instead of a tectonic shift.
"You're serious."
"Completely." She laughs, and the sound is warm. Unguarded. "I know it sounds insane. I still can't believe it myself. But yeah. I got the giant check and everything. It's real."
She explains—voice bright with excitement—how she never thought she'd actually win, how she took the lump sum payout, how her family screamed when she told them.
The resignation letter slides onto my desk.
I should congratulate her.
I do, eventually.
"That's… significant. Congratulations."
"Thank you." She's still smiling. "I know it's sudden, but I figured two weeks wouldn't make much difference at this point."
"No. That's fine."
What I don't say is that I know exactly what's coming for her.
The advisors. The opportunists. The people who will prey on her and call it help. The lawsuits. The relatives. The strangers who'll treat her like a resource instead of a person.
What I don't say is that she has no idea how much danger comes disguised as generosity.
When she turns to leave, I realize—too late—that I don't want her to go.
***
Henry appears in the doorway just as Lindsay reaches the hall.
