“Grant arrived ten minutes ago.”

“He entered through the private executive garage.”

“Has he seen the security logs yet?” I asked.

“No,” Margaret said.

“The IT department locked his access codes early this morning under my instruction.”

“He thinks it is a system glitch.”

“He is currently in the boardroom, preparing his presentation.”

The car turned onto the main avenue.

The Holloway Tower loomed ahead, its glass facade reflecting the gray sky.

We pulled up to the side entrance.

One of our guards opened the door.

The air outside was cold and wet, stinging my cheeks.

I leaned heavily on Margaret’s arm as we walked toward the glass doors.

The security guards at the desk looked up, startled to see us.

One of them reached for his phone.

“Do not make that call,” Margaret said, her voice sharp as glass.

She showed him a legal document from her folder.

“We have a court-ordered access permit.”

The guard hesitated, his hand hovering over the receiver.

Then he slowly lowered it.

We walked past the desk to the executive elevators.

The ride up to the fiftieth floor was silent.