Zander
The photograph on Gina’s phone bothered me more than Victor’s message.
Not because of the seven women standing beneath the Preston Enterprises logo or the crude way Gina had been added to the end of the line. It was the room itself. I recognized the executive waiting area immediately, but something about the image felt wrong. The furniture belonged to the company’s early years, before we expanded the executive floor and replaced almost everything except the walls. The carpet had been gone for more than a decade. The old silver logo behind the women had been removed when I was still young enough to believe every successful company needed marble and polished brass to prove it had arrived.
Yet Gina’s photograph had been placed there as though she belonged with the others.
Not becau
