The call came at nine-thirteen PM.
Aurora was in the middle of closing out her laptop, the last document saved, the last tab closed, the particular quietness of an office emptying around her that she usually found satisfying. Ricky had left an hour ago — she'd heard his footsteps fade down the corridor and hadn't called him back. The conversation from earlier still sat unresolved between them, the way unsaid things had weight even when you chose not to pick them up.
Her phone lit up with Patricia's name.
She answered on the second ring.
"Ms. Castillo." Patricia's voice was its usual register — precise, unhurried, the particular calm of someone whose entire professional identity was built on never sounding rattled. "I apologize for the hour. There's a situation with Mr. Ashford that requires your presence. It's sensitive. I'd prefer not to discuss it over the phone."
Aurora's hand tightened on the device. "What kind of situation?"
