First message
The boardroom was quiet now, save for the low hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling glass. New York shimmered below like a mirage. It was past midnight, and the room smelled like burnt coffee and sleepless ambition. Sienna stood at the head of the long marble table, her fingers still resting on the damning memo — the one she’d buried five years ago. She didn’t flinch when she heard your voice behind her. You knew this existed. And you didn’t tell me?