I could feel the pressure changing in my ears.

My heart beat a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs.

I looked at my reflection in the polished metal wall of the elevator.

I looked tired, but my eyes were clear.

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open to reveal the wide, carpeted reception area of the executive suite.

The receptionist stood up immediately.

“Mrs. Holloway,” she stammered. “We did not expect you.”

“We are here for the meeting,” Margaret said.

She did not wait for an invitation.

She led the way down the long, quiet hallway toward the double mahogany doors of the boardroom.

Through the frosted glass, I could see the silhouettes of twelve people sitting around the massive table.

At the head of the table stood Grant.

His voice carried through the heavy wood, confident and loud.

I reached out and placed my hand on the brass handle of the door.

My fingers were cold.

The phone in Margaret’s pocket suddenly began to vibrate.

She pulled it out and looked at the screen.

Her face changed, the color draining from her lips.