Chapter 10: Wednesday Deadline
Vega Enterprises, Floor 27, 8:03 AM Wednesday.
Katrina hit send.
The email said: _Mexico City Audit - FY2019-2021 Complete. Final reports attached. Summary on your desk. – K. Hale-Vega_
Three monitors went dark. One by one.
Done.
Four years of mess. Three managers before her. Daniel Shaw's "unorganized" files that were actually just wrong. 47 hours of work since Monday. Six coffees. One blazer that wasn't hers.
All balanced. All clean. All submitted 2 hours and 57 minutes before deadline.
Her hands shook. Not from nerves. From no sleep.
She stood. Knees locked. The office was empty. Sofia wasn't in yet. No one was. Just the hum of AC and the smell of cold coffee.
She'd done it. Alone. No Shaw. No partners. Just her.
_"You gave you what you earned,"_ he said.
She earned this.
The elevator dinged.
Katrina didn't look up. Security did rounds at 8. Or cleaning.
Footsteps. Not security. Not cleaning.
Measured. Deliberate.
She knew them now.
Alexandra Vega stopped at the entrance to Accounting. Suit. Mask on. 8:04 AM. He was never here before 9.
"Mr. Vega," she said. Voice cracked.
He didn't answer. Walked to her cubicle. Looked at the dark screens. At the empty coffee mug. At the printed summary on her desk with a sticky note: _Sofia - Final. – K._
He picked it up. Read standing. One page. Then two. Then three.
Katrina didn't breathe.
He'd fired people for less than a typo. He'd moved Shaw to Auditing for one forged signature. This was three years of a foreign subsidiary. If she missed a zero –
"Line 37," he said.
Her stomach dropped. "Yes?"
"Explain it."
She stepped closer. Looked. _FX variance Q4 2020. Adjusted for post-COVID peso volatility. See Appendix C._
"I pulled the central bank rates," she said. "Not the corporate estimates. 2019-2021 were using projected numbers. I re-ran all FX against actual published daily rates. The variance was 11%. That's why nothing balanced."
He kept reading. Page four. Page five.
Silence for two minutes.
Then he set the papers down. Perfectly aligned with the edge of her desk.
"Good work," he said.
Katrina blinked.
He didn't say _adequate_. He didn't say _acceptable_. He didn't say _fix page 7_.
Good work.
Two words. Flat. No inflection. But his eyes weren't cold.
"Thank you," she said. Automatic. Then: "I – it's just numbers."
"Numbers run this building," he said. "Numbers run the world. People who think numbers are 'just numbers' end up like Shaw. In Auditing."
He looked at her. Really looked. Dark circles. Blazer from Monday still on the back of her chair. His blazer.
"You didn't sleep," he said. Not a question.
"Wednesday deadline."
"You met it."
"I had to."
"No," he said. "You didn't _have_ to. You chose to. There's a difference."
_Save it to the blood._
The words hit different when he said them. When Richard said them, it meant _shut up and take it_. When Matteo said them, it meant _wives don't complain_.
When Alexandra said them, it meant... she didn't know what it meant yet.
"I checked your draft at 1:19 AM," he said. "It was wrong. You fixed it."
She froze. "You were here. Monday night."
"I'm always here."
"You saw me sleeping."
"I saw your work."
Clause 5.1. _No emotional entanglement._
This felt like entanglement. But it was about work. About numbers. That was allowed.
"Sofia's in at 9," he said. He checked his watch. 8:11 AM. "She'll want to see you. Go home. Sleep. Be back at 1PM."
"That's not –"
"It wasn't a request." He turned to leave. Stopped. "Oh. And Hale-Vega?"
"Yes?"
"Don't apologize to her. For being early. For being right. For anything."
He left.
Katrina sat down. Hard.
_Good work._
_You chose to._
_Don't apologize._
She looked at his blazer on her chair. Then at her phone. No messages. But there was one from 4:06 AM she hadn't seen.
*A.V.:* Security said Floor 27 light was off at 4:07 AM. Good.
He'd been watching. Not to catch her sleeping. To make sure she left.
---
*1:00 PM. Sofia's Office.*
Sofia held the Mexico City report. Didn't sit. Just read.
Katrina stood. Hands behind her back. No shaking now.
Sofia flipped to page five. Line 37. Tapped it. "You re-ran FX against central bank rates."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the corporate estimates were wrong. All three years."
Sofia looked up. For the first time since Katrina started, Sofia smiled. Small. But real.
"Shaw told me Mexico City was a lost cause," Sofia said. "Said we should write it off. Sell the subsidiary."
Katrina said nothing. Rule #1: don't engage.
"Good work, Hale-Vega," Sofia said. "Really good work."
Twice in one day.
"The CEO was in here at 8:30," Sofia added. Casual. Too casual. "Asked if I'd seen your final. I told him yes. He said 'She's better than Shaw.' Then he left."
Katrina's face went hot.
Sofia noticed. "You didn't know he said that?"
"No."
"Huh." Sofia set the report down. "Well. You're off Mexico City now. You're on the Q2 consolidation. With me. Direct report."
Promotion. Or test. Or both.
"Yes, ma'am," Katrina said.
"Don't call me ma'am. It's Sofia." She paused. "And go home after this. You look like death. That's an order."
Katrina nodded. Left.
---
*West Wing, 6:47 PM.*
She slept until 6. Showered. Changed. Made real food for the first time in a week.
No knock on the East Wing door.
At 8:02 PM, her phone buzzed. Unknown number. But she knew.
*A.V.:* Q2 consolidation. Good. Don't let Sofia work you to death. I need Accounting functional.
Not _congratulations_. Not _I'm proud_.
_I need Accounting functional._
But he texted. He never texted.
Katrina stared at it. Typed: _Yes, Mr. Vega._
Deleted it.
Typed: _I won't._
Send.
Three dots. Then nothing. Then:
*A.V.:* Good.
_Save it to the blood._
For the first time, it didn't feel like a chain.
It felt like armor.
Wednesday was over.
Thursday would be war.