The glass façade of Johnson & Associates reflected the high noon sun, casting long, sharp glints across the commercial boulevard. Inside the bullpen, the usual click of keyboards and shuffling of printouts had slowed down to a steady, rhythmic hum as the clock ticked past noon.
Catharine sat at her desk, her fingers poised over her keyboard as she finalized the column entries for the midday compliance report. Her headset was resting around her neck, its small green indicator light blinking silently. Ever since Elena Henry had cleared out Henderson's desk and handed Catharine the direct reporting line for the Sterling assets, the junior analysts in her row had stopped leaning over her partition to borrow highlighters. The silence around her workspace was measured, careful, and heavy with a newfound boundaries-first respect.
A quiet, dual-tone vibration from the corner of her desk broke her focus. It was her personal phone, displaying a single, brief text from Jake.
