Thick-necked, red-faced, with breath like stale coffee and bile, he marched toward her like a freight train. I I’m just doing my rounds, sir. Maya stammered, stepping back from the office window. Rounds? He spat. Is that what we call spying now? No, sir. I didn’t mean to. I just I saw you watching him. Carver snapped.

What were you hoping to see? Trying to find a weakness? Sell something to the press? People like you always looking for a shortcut. Her cheeks flushed. I wasn’t. I swear. I just Before she could finish, his hand flew faster than her thoughts. Smack. The sting spread across her cheek like fire. She stumbled back into her cart. A bottle of disinfectant toppled to the ground, clanking loudly against the floor.

Her vision blurred with tears. Her cheek throbbed. “That’ll teach you to mind your place,” Carver growled. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, pressing a trembling hand to the side of her face. “I’m sorry,” she wheeled the card away, each step heavier than the last. Minutes later, desperate to breathe, she ducked into Richard Vaughn’s office. He was gone.