“But I don’t have access?—”
“The elevator will take you up. I’ve cleared it.”
I take the folder and head for the elevator, my heels clicking against the marble like a countdown.
The ride up feels longer than it should. Six floors, but each one stretches into eternity. I watch the numbers climb and try to remember how to breathe.
Don’t make eye contact. Don’t speak. Drop it and leave.
Simple enough. I can do simple.
Ding.
The doors part, and the atmosphere shifts with them.
Sound dulls. Light softens. Even the air feels curated—leather, polish, something expensive and deliberate. The carpet absorbs the impact of my steps, leaving me moving through the space almost noiselessly.
No one waits at reception.
I hesitate, then check the folder. Castellano.
Right. End of the hall.
I move forward, eyes flicking over each nameplate as I pass, counting doors, tracking distance?—
—and then I hear it.
A voice, drifting from an office to my left. The door isn’t fully closed but slightly ajar, just enough for the words to slip into the hallway.
“—talks too much. That’s the problem.”
I slow down.Just keep walking. This is none of my business.
But my feet have other plans.
“Handle it before the deposition.”
The voice stops me completely. There’s nothing raised or urgent about it—if anything, it’s too calm, stripped of anything human.
“Make it look like an accident. He has a boat. Use that.”
Cold settles under my skin. The words don’t make sense at first—not in this context, not in this building—until they do, all at once, in the worst possible way.
I edge closer to the door before I can stop myself, telling myself I just need to confirm what I’m hearing. That there’s a reasonable explanation. That I can report it, fix it, hand it off to someone who knows what to do.
Through the narrow gap, I see him.
The man from the elevator.
He stands by the window, phone pressed to his ear, the city stretching out behind him in dull gray.
The nameplate on the door catches my eye:Raffaele D’Amico, Senior Partner.
D’Amico. As in, the name on the building.
Oh God.
His reflection shifts in the window glass.
