She glanced at her computer screen.

“Mr. Vance is in the main boardroom,” she said. “He requested that you be sent straight in.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I walked down the long corridor.

The glass walls of the offices showed employees setting up for the day.

Through one window, I saw Lila Parker.

She was adjusting a stack of folders, her young face bright and untroubled.

She had no idea what was about to happen.

I kept walking until I reached the double oak doors of the boardroom.

I knocked once and turned the handle.

The room was large, dominated by a long mahogany table.

Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the leather chairs.

Arthur Vance stood by the coffee station, holding a ceramic mug.

Two other senior board members, Marcus Thorne and Evelyn Ross, were already seated.

They looked up as I entered.

“Clara,” Arthur said, his voice deep and solemn.

He walked over and took my hand.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Your email was very concerning.”

“Thank you for convening on such short notice, Arthur,” I said.