(Joseph POV)
The day started like any other.
That was the problem.
I arrived at the office at seven-thirty, greeted familiar faces, nodded through the usual pleasantries. The elevator ride up felt routine. The smell of coffee in the executive hallway was the same blend I'd approved months ago.
Everything was exactly as it should have been.
And yet, something scraped at the back of my mind from the moment I stepped inside the building.
It wasn't anxiety. I knew anxiety well enough by now—how it tightened the chest, how it demanded attention. This was different. Quieter. More persistent.
Like a pressure change before a storm.
I sat through the morning briefing, fingers steepled, eyes on the screen as projections rolled by. Numbers were up. Occupancy rates stable. Expansion plans progressing smoothly. On paper, Hamilton Group was thriving.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I caught myself rereading the same line on the report for the third time.
"Joseph?"
