The meeting request from Cassandra landed in my inbox barely an hour after the merger presentation. It felt less like an invitation and more like a summons.
Her office, usually filled with bright, modern art, felt colder than usual. Cassandra sat behind her vast glass desk, her smile too wide, too fixed.
“Elara,” she began, not bothering with pleasantries, “we need to talk about your future here at Brightwood.”
My stomach tightened. “My future?”
She leaned back, fingers steepled. “Yes. We’re looking at a departmental restructuring, you see. Streamlining operations ahead of the merger.”
The words “restructuring” and “streamlining” were corporate euphemisms for layoffs. I knew it immediately.
“Your role, specifically,” she continued, her gaze unwavering, “has unfortunately been identified as… redundant.”
A jolt went through me. Redundant. After everything I’d done.
“Effectively,” Cassandra said, picking up a silver pen and twirling it, “your position will be dissolved within the next ninety days. I suggest you start considering your career alternatives.”
My jaw clenched. This wasn’t a corporate decision. This was personal. This was her.
Later that afternoon, I picked Lily up from the estate’s temporary annex. The nanny, a kind older woman named Mrs. Chen, smiled as Lily pointed to an antique cabinet in the staff breakroom.
“She loves the pretty swirls,” Mrs. Chen explained, “tracing them with her little fingers.”
Lily, oblivious to the storm brewing around me, ran her hand over the dark wood. Her tiny fingers followed the deep, intricate carvings.
I glanced at the cabinet, a piece of old, heavy furniture tucked against the wall. Its ornate patterns, I realized with a sudden chill, looked strikingly similar to the faded symbol in the anonymous email.
Cassandra wasn’t just isolating me professionally; she was trying to cut off my livelihood. But Lily’s innocent fascination had just given me a thread.
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