The next week devours me.
I stop counting hours by the clock and start measuring them by the number of meetings Damian drags me into, the length of the spreadsheets he requests, the pace of his footsteps echoing across the marble floors. Every day begins before I feel fully awake and ends long after the rest of the building has emptied.
I learn the rhythms of his world because I have to. His day starts early with merciless focus, sharp enough to slice through any delay or hesitation. He drinks his first coffee strong and black, his second lighter, and he never touches the third cup I bring unless he is preparing for a confrontation. He prefers data charts to summaries, redlined documents to rewritten ones, and he reads everything like he is scanning for someone’s lie hidden between the l
