Page 25 of Kisses and Paperclips

I cross my arms, keeping my tone steady. “And Quinn actually saw this?”

“He swears,” Steven said, his voice quick and defensive. “Said it was right there on the desk, plain as day.”

“Anything else?” I asked, my Patience thinning by the second.

Steven shakes his head, his eyes darting to the door again. “That’s all I know. I thought you’d want to hear it.”

I wave him off, already lost in thought. “Alright, thanks, Steven.”

He doesn’t wait for a second dismissal, practically bolting out the door as if it’s on fire. The moment the door clicks shut, I sink into my chair, the weight of the revelation pressing down on me.

Blank.

Evelyn Brooks doesn’t do blank.

***

Walking into the boardroom, I exhaled, savoring the rarest of luxury, silence.

The clock mocked me.

Lunch had bled into back-to-back meetings, my inbox a graveyard of unanswered emails and half-baked promises. All I wanted was sixty seconds of silence—no spreadsheets, no forced small talk with Finance, no thinly veiled “Per my last email…” grenades.

Just me, the sleek mahogany table, and the fleeting illusion of control.

I exhaled, rolling the tension from my shoulders, and reached for the nearest chair—

“There you are.”

The voice was honey-smooth, laced with a chirpiness that set my teeth on edge.

Ms. Brooks.

Her manicured hand on my shoulder sent my pulse racing as I turned. Her sharp power suit was a stark contrast to the subdued office colors, and the air around her carried the distinct aroma of Chanel No. 5. It smelled like she poured half the bottle on herself. Her perfectly styled jet-black bob was flawless.

But it was her smile that set off alarms.

Too bright, too polished, and too pleased with herself.

Ms. Brooks only smiled like this under three circumstances:

1.When a deal closed.

2.Some HR that would have the team chats pinging through the rest of the day.

Or

3.When she’d decided to “reposition” someone’s career like a chess piece sacrificed for her endgame.

The CEO seat had always been hers.

Not just in title but in legacy, in presence, and in the kind of power that announced itself before she even stepped into a room.

Lately, that presence had started… flickering.

No one said it aloud, of course.

This office thrived on fake politeness.

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