A week had gone by, and the dust had finally settled.
After the fiasco at the Benefit—the image of William Torres, the CEO, practically running after his injured assistant and never returning to his own event—it was safe to say Julian was fuming.
But, true to form, he handled the situation with surgical precision. He smothered the ruckus before it could mutate into a PR nightmare, weaving an excuse perfect enough to extinguish the board's irritation.
Once again, Julian had played the hero, a role for which William was ostensibly grateful.
Before we knew it, the entire thing felt like a lifetime ago.
The routine of the office had swallowed the incident whole, digesting the chaos into a sanitized narrative of security lapses and unfortunate accidents. By Tuesday morning, the bandage on my hand felt more like a nuisance than a battle scar—a small, white reminder of a night that had already been filed away.
