ropped her phone into her bag and stared b

ooklyn apartment building. She shoved a twenty-dollar b

he fumbled with her keys, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline of the hot

the wood, closing her eyes. The silence of her apa

f the silk dress, letting it fall to the tile floor like a discarded skin. She

ying to wash away the scent of expensive colo

ut of the bathroom. The panic was g

She pulled out a drab, shapeless gray suit. It was cheap, stiff, and completely

to a tight, severe bun at the nape of her neck. She opened her

but the frames instantly changed her face. They hid the sharpness of

briefcase from the chair

in the crowded car. The smell of damp wool and stale coffee filled the air. Arnetta st

the subway stati

he street. It was a massive structure of gla

xpansive lobby. The floors were polished marble. Men

d pulled a printed email from her bri

keeping her voice soft and

t his computer screen. He printed a temp

She walked through the security turnstiles an

Resources floor. Arnetta stepped

looked up from her monitor. She w

k of paperwork. "Sign these. Non-disclosure agreement

rgon with practiced speed. She signed her name on th

ack and handed Arnetta a

me," Ele

assive, open-plan room filled with rows of identical desks. The noise was dea

r corner of the room. It was next to a humming pr

id, turning and walking a

laminate desk. She sat in the uncomfortabl

rted digging into the organizational charts. She was looking for one name. The Mave

tive directory, a heavy stack of ma

ing her glasses up t

Davis, stood over her. He looked at her gr

e food chain, you get the garbage. These are rejected client files. Dead

lank. She nodded submis

fed and wa

She reached out and pulled the top folde

ipped

top of the page read: Kirkland

e client's name.

in her throat. Her stom

ed behind her eyes. The broad shoulders. T

her a corporate climber. He was not just some Wall

the edge of the folder. The p

aster. This was an opportunity. Brennan Kirkland was her direct

er and a few loose printouts from the stack, then walked straigh

ed office and knocked twice. Without waiti

rning red with anger. "What

the red folder

tax code-the 'anti-Morris Trust' rules. If you proceed with the current structure,

stared at her, his mouth slightly open, the sheer audacity of her cl

n the desk. "Draft a one-page memo outlining this loophole strategy. I'll give you ex

minutes," Arnetta said, pushing her glasses up he

er sudden, terrifying display of sheer competence, he grabbed his pen and scribbled his signatu

der back. She turned and

personal phone from her pocket. She op

rdner, her adoptive brother a

and file. Moving

hit

nior vice president approaching the scanner. She quickened her pace, deliberately dropping a supplementary file right at his heels. The man pause, picking it up for her with a distracted nod. "Thank you so