CORVIN The sun hadn't even come up yet when I pulled into my reserved spot at the office the next morning. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep, and my skin felt tight, but I didn't care. I had a schedule to keep. If I stopped moving, the memory of last night–the sounds from my laptop and the ache in my chest, would swallow me whole. "Good morning, Mr. Marlowe," my assistant, Michelle, said as I stepped off the elevator. She was trying to keep up with my pace. "You have the board prep at eight, the quarterly review at ten, and the lunch meeting with Mr. Sterling at one." "Move the review to nine," I snapped, not looking back. "I want the data on the Southside project on my desk in five minutes. If there’s a single decimal point out of place, I want the head of accounting in here immediately." "Yes, sir." I slammed my office door shut. My desk was clean, but my mind was a mess. I sat down and opened my laptop, my fingers hovering over the keys. For a split second, I wanted to s
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