RHEA
I’m still trying to accept that this is actually happening when one of the board members — a balding man with sweat shining at his temples — clears his throat again. “Mr. Da—”
“Oh, relax,” he cuts in, flicking a lazy hand. His other hand keeps turning the note over between his fingers. “My brother won’t hear a word from me.”
A pause.
“But that doesn’t mean this mess won’t eventually crawl its way back to him. Employee evaluations are what — two weeks away?”
Oh.
So, that’s his play.
The room locks up. Not a single spine stays straight.
He opens the note again, eyes skimming it with a softness that makes my jaw tighten. The contrast is jarring. Someone beside me grips the edge of the table hard enough that it creaks.
“This is usually when people start making better choices,” he
