The celebration didn't last long—not in the loud, chaotic sense. After the initial cheering, hugging, disbelief, clapping, and Derrick nearly injuring his wrist while fist-pumping the air, the entire office gradually drifted back to work.
But the air had shifted.
Emails sounded brighter.
Keyboard taps had rhythm.
Someone in Purchasing put low jazz on the speaker in the corner, and nobody complained.
It wasn't productivity.
It was victory with a to-do list.
I was updating a projection sheet when Hale's office door swung open for the second time this morning. Conversations dipped around us the moment he stepped out—habit, respect, mild fear, all three.
"Tanaka," Hale said. "With me."
My head snapped up. "Yes, sir."
Derrick mouthed Uh oh dramatically. I ignored him and followed Hale.
We crossed the floor in silence, stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed with a soft mechanical sigh. Hale pressed a button without looking at me.
Top floor.
I did look at him.
