Monday morning arrived with a clarity that felt almost aggressive. The rain from the weekend had washed the city clean, leaving the sky a brittle, cloudless blue. I woke up at six-thirty, my internal clock still set to crisis time, but there was no urgency in the air. No deposition to prep for. No hearing to attend. Just a meeting. A handover. The most dangerous thing I had done in months wasn't testifying before Congress; it was walking into my own office and giving someone else the keys.
I dressed carefully. Not in the armor of the hearing—the navy suit—but in something softer. A charcoal blazer, a silk blouse, dark trousers. Professional but approachable. I wanted to look like a leader who was stepping back, not a CEO who was being pushed out. Marcus was already downstairs. He was maki
