The door to the executive office clicked shut with a sound that felt as final as a prison bolt. Outside in the hallway, the world of high-stakes finance continued to spin, but inside these four walls of glass and mahogany, the very air had curdled.
Jason didn't move. He remained standing by the heavy door, his back to me, his broad shoulders rising and falling in heavy, deliberate cycles. The silence was so absolute I could hear the faint, high-pitched ring of my own pulse in my ears. I stood by his desk, the bag of salad feeling like a lead weight in my hand, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Jason?" I whispered, my voice sounding small and fragile in the vast, clinical room.
He turned slowly, his movement calculated and fluid. The "New Jason"—the one who bought
