Michael's office was quiet in the way expensive rooms always were, not peaceful, just controlled. The city outside his windows looked calm, but Michael had lived long enough to know calm was only what you saw before you noticed what was already moving underneath. He stood near the glass with one hand in his pocket, staring down at the lights like he owned them, because in most ways he did.
Then came the knock, not gentle, not hesitant, four quick taps like the person outside already knew they had permission. Michael did not turn, he just said, "Come in."
The door opened and Clara stepped in with a tablet held tight against her chest, wearing the same neutral face she always wore, the face of someone who handled disasters for a living and never let her boss see her blink.
Michael finally turned, his eyes landing on the tablet first before they landed on her. "Update," he said.
