(Rebecca's POV)
Week twelve, an air-quality monitor appears at my workbench overnight.
"Facilities upgrade," Marcus says, not looking up from his tablet, badly.
"Marcus."
"It's a facilities upgrade.
"There is no facilities upgrade. I would know. I approve the facilities budget.
He finally looks up, and whatever's on my face makes him set the tablet down entirely.
"Eric asked me to install it," he admits. "Quietly. He didn't want you to notice."
"I noticed in four seconds."
"I told him that would happen."
Week thirteen, my coffee tastes wrong.
One sip, and I know immediately — the specific absence of caffeine's usual sharp edge, replaced with something flatter, softer, unmistakably decaf.
I find Eric in the break room, refilling his own cup like nothing's happened.
"Did you swi
