Morning at RCG did not announce itself.
It simply continued.
May arrived a few minutes early, the way she had learned to do when she did not yet understand the rules but wanted to look like she respected them. The lobby was already awake. Shoes clicked across polished floors. Conversations moved in low, efficient bursts. Screens glowed behind the reception desk, numbers and names sliding past too quickly to read.
She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked in.
Yesterday lingered in her body, not as fear, but as awareness. She noticed where people stood. Who greeted whom. Who did not look at her at all.
The elevators swallowed her with the same quiet efficiency as before.
Upstairs, the office floor smelled faintly of coffee and something sharper underneath it, like toner or overheated wires. The desks were already half occupied. Some people were typing. Others stood in small clusters, heads angled together, voices low.
May took her seat where she had been assigned and opened her notebook, even though she did not yet have anything to write.
She told herself this was normal.
A shadow fell over her desk.
She looked up and saw the woman from yesterday.
Up close, she seemed younger than May had first thought, maybe mid twenties, with tired eyes and hair pulled into a loose bun that looked like it had been redone once already this morning.
"Hey," the woman said quietly. "You okay?"
May hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. I mean… yeah."
The woman smiled, small and careful, like she had learned not to offer too much of herself at once.
"I'm Lena," she said. "Lena Park. I work in Operations, mostly data coordination."
"May," May replied. "May Hale."
Lena's gaze flicked briefly toward the center of the floor, then back. "Yesterday was a lot," she said. "First days usually are."
It was not an apology. It was not reassurance.
It felt like recognition.
"Thank you," May said, and meant it more than she expected.
Lena nodded once. "If you need anything. Or if someone gives you instructions that don't make sense, feel free to ask me. Some people here assume everyone knows everything already."
She said it lightly, but there was something edged beneath the words.
Before May could respond, a voice cut across the space.
"Lydia, did you send the assessment summaries to Legal yet?"
The woman standing a few desks away turned, one manicured brow lifting. She was tall, poised, dressed in a way that made the office feel like her territory. Her hair fell perfectly into place, not a strand out of line.
"Yes," she said smoothly. "This morning. I cc'd you."
"Good," the speaker replied. "Make sure Compliance has access too."
The woman smiled, already turning back to her screen.
May watched her without meaning to.
"That's Lydia Grant," Lena murmured, leaning in just enough to keep the words private. "Senior associate. She's… influential."
The way Lena said it told May everything the word did not.
Lydia was not alone. Two other women hovered near her desk, laughing quietly at something on a phone screen. One of them, with sharp eyes and a sharper smile, glanced over at May for half a second before turning away.
"That's Harper Nguyen," Lena continued. "And the one on the right is Simone Blake."
Harper was the one who laughed first. Simone followed a beat later, softer, more cautious, as if waiting to see whether it was safe.
Names settled into place.
They made the memory of yesterday sharpen, not blur.
Later that morning, May was handed a stack of printed assessments by a supervisor she had met only once.
"These need to be reviewed and flagged for inconsistencies," he said. "Lydia will walk you through the framework."
He was already moving away before May could respond.
She stood, papers clutched against her chest, and approached Lydia's desk.
"Excuse me," she said. "I was told you could explain the…"
Lydia did not look up.
"I'm busy," she said. "Harper?"
Harper turned, eyes flicking over May with open assessment. "What is it?"
"I need the framework for these assessments," May said, holding up the papers. "I was told…"
"Oh," Harper interrupted lightly. "Those. Didn't anyone tell you? They're pretty straightforward."
She glanced at Lydia, then back at May. "You just compare projected margins against baseline risk models and flag deviations."
May waited.
"That's it?" she asked.
Harper smiled. "If you understand what any of that means."
Simone snorted softly, then covered it with a cough.
May nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
She returned to her desk, heat creeping up her neck.
She stared at the first page.
Projected margins. Baseline risk models.
The words meant something to her. Not clearly. Not yet. But enough that she knew the explanation she had been given was incomplete.
She worked slowly. Carefully. When she reached a section that did not make sense, she marked it and moved on.
An hour later, Lydia passed by her desk and stopped.
"You flagged this," she said, tapping the paper with one finger. "Why?"
May flinched, then she straightened. "The …The numbers don't align with the previous quarter's risk tolerance. There's a discrepancy." She said, stammering a little
Lydia's eyes sharpened. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," May said. "Unless I'm missing an updated model." She said more confidently this time
There was a pause.
Harper looked up from her screen. Simone leaned closer, interest flickering.
Lydia studied May for a long moment, then smiled.
"You're thorough," she said. "That's good. But don't overthink things. Sometimes numbers are just numbers."
She took the paper and walked away.
The discrepancy was corrected later that afternoon.
No one acknowledged it.
At lunch, May sat alone.
She ate quietly, listening to conversations that did not include her. Laughter rose and fell. Names were called. Invitations extended, then withdrawn.
Lena passed by on her way out.
"You're doing fine," she said softly, pausing just long enough to be noticed. "They noticed too. Even if they pretend not to."
May looked up. "Is it always like this?"
Lena hesitated. "With them? Yes. With everyone else? No."
That evening, as May packed her bag, Lydia walked past again.
"Tomorrow," Lydia said without stopping, "be prepared to present your flagged sections."
May's pulse jumped. "Present?"
Lydia glanced back, a smile curving her lips. "If you can keep up."
She walked away.
May sat back down, heart pounding.
Names echoed in her mind as she rode the elevator down.
Lena Park.
Lydia Grant.
Harper Nguyen.
Simone Blake.
They no longer felt like strangers.
They felt like edges.
She did not message William that night.
She told herself she wanted to understand the shape of this place before she decided what it meant.
That was not the whole truth.
But it was enough to stand on.