Episode 5 :Thirty Eight Floors

POV SOFIA

I arrived at Cole Enterprises at eight fifty five.

Five minutes early.

I was always five minutes early. It was one of the few things in my life I could consistently control and I held onto it quietly — simply because it was mine.

The building looked exactly as it had the first time.

Enormous. Deliberate. The kind of structure that had decided long ago it owned its piece of the skyline and had never once reconsidered.

I looked up at it for exactly two seconds.

Then I walked in.

Daniel was waiting in the lobby.

He greeted me with the same efficient precision I remembered from the presentation — nodded, checked his watch, confirmed I was on time and led me to the elevator without unnecessary conversation.

The doors opened on the thirty eighth floor.

I stepped out.

Floor to ceiling windows running the entire length of the corridor. The city spread out below like it existed purely to be looked down at from up here. Glass walled offices where people moved with the focused quiet of those who understood exactly what was expected of them. Everything deliberate. Everything precise.

Daniel led me to a workspace near the middle of the floor.

One desk. Already set up — computer, stationery, everything in place.

"Your workspace," he said. "IT will come by this morning to set up your access. If you need anything—" he produced a card, "—my number."

He left.

I sat down.

Opened my laptop.

And started working.

I became aware of the attention gradually.

Not dramatically. Nobody stopped walking or made it obvious. But it was there — the way attention settled into a space when something new arrived that people hadn't decided what to do with yet. Glances from the open office area. A woman passing my corridor who slowed just enough to look without appearing to look.

I kept my eyes on my screen.

At around nine thirty someone appeared at the entrance of my corridor.

I looked up.

And stopped.

Brandon.

He looked exactly the same as he had at university — same easy smile, same relaxed energy.

He was clearly just as surprised as I was.

"Sofia?" He blinked. "Sofia Brennan?"

"Brandon." I sat up straighter. "You work here?"

"Three years now." He grinned and leaned against the doorframe. "What are you doing on the thirty eighth floor?"

"Embedded analyst," I said. "Partnership implementation."

He shook his head slowly like he still couldn't quite believe it. "Small world."

"Very small," I agreed.

He came in properly then — pulled up a chair without being invited the way people did when they were genuinely comfortable with you — and we talked. Catching up quickly. Filling in the gaps that years had left. The easy shorthand of people who had known each other before life got complicated.

It was nice.

Unexpectedly nice.

I hadn't realized how much I had missed having someone around who knew me from before — before this job, before the pregnancy, before everything that had accumulated quietly on top of the person I used to be.

"You look good Sofia," Brandon said at some point. "Really good."

I almost laughed.

If only he knew.

"Thank you," I said instead.

He stayed longer than he probably intended to. When he finally stood up he looked at me with that easy smile and said — "lunch later? Catch up properly?"

"Maybe," I said.

He left still smiling.

I went back to my document.

And tried to remember where I had been before he arrived.

Veronica came at ten.

She stopped at the entrance of my corridor with a coffee cup and a smile that was perfectly assembled.

"You must be Sofia," she said warmly.

"I am," I said.

"I'm Veronica. Three years here. If you need anything — someone to show you around, explain how things work — don't hesitate."

"Thank you," I said.

I went back to my screen.

A small pause.

"It must be quite an adjustment," she said pleasantly. "Coming from a smaller company. The pace here is very different."

"I'm sure I'll manage," I said.

I turned a page.

Another pause.

"Well." The smile stayed exactly where it was. "Let me know if you need anything."

She left.

I finished the page I was on.

And moved to the next one.

I was deep in the implementation documents at eleven fifteen when the atmosphere suddenly became extremely quiet .that's unusual I thought.

Not a sound. Not a movement I could point to.

I kept my eyes on my screen.

Footsteps in the corridor outside my workspace.

Steady. Unhurried. The walk of someone who had never needed to announce himself because every room he entered did it for him.

They slowed outside my workspace.

I turned a page.

Kept reading.

The footsteps continued.

Past my corridor. Down the main passage. Fading gradually until the floor settled back into its ordinary rhythm.

I finished my paragraph.

Started the next one.

ETHAN

She hadn't looked up.

I had walked past her workspace at a pace that gave her every opportunity to notice.

She had not noticed.

Or had noticed and decided — with the same composure she had apparently decided to bring into my building on a permanent basis — that looking up was simply not something she was going to do.

I went back to my office.

Looked at the Henderson file on my desk.

Thought about grey eyes focused on a laptop screen with the absolute concentration of someone who had found something worth giving her full attention to.

Not me apparently.

I picked up the Henderson file.

Put it down.

I pressed the intercom.

"Daniel."

"Sir."

"Ms Brennan." "Tell her I want to see her."

A pause.

"Now sir?"

"Did I say later Daniel."

"No sir." A beat. "Right away."

SOFIA

Daniel appeared at my desk at eleven forty three.

I was in the middle of a sentence I wanted to finish.

I held up one finger.

Finished the sentence.

Saved the document.

Looked up.

"Mr Cole will see you now," Daniel said.

I picked up my notepad.

Stood up.

"Lead the way," I said.

His office was at the far end of the floor.

Dark wood door. No nameplate. The kind of door that didn't need one.

Daniel knocked twice. Opened it. Stepped aside.

I walked in.

The office was enormous.

Floor to ceiling windows running the entire back wall Dark furniture. Clean surfaces. Bookshelves along the left wall with actual books — spines worn the way spines got worn when they had been opened more than once.

Ethan Cole was at his desk.

Reading something.

He did not look up when I entered.

The door closed behind me.

The office went very quiet.

I stood.

And waited.

I looked at the windows. At the city below. At the bookshelves. At the single painting on the right wall chosen by someone with genuine taste.

I looked back at Ethan Cole.

Still reading.

I waited some more.

I had nowhere else to be.