Maya did not go back to the third floor because she could not pretend she was fine. Her face was wet, her breathing uneven, and her hands were still shaking too much to pass anyone without being seen. Instead she turned down a quieter hallway and found an executive bathroom, the kind with thick towels and soap that smelled expensive. She locked herself inside a stall and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. The tile was cold against her legs, grounding in a way she needed.Her phone buzzed in her pocket like it knew she was breaking. Elena asked where she was, then asked again, the messages stacking fast enough to feel like pressure. An unknown number followed, calm and precise, reminding her the offer still stood and that she had twenty four hours. Maya closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her knees. Two hundred thousand dollars did not feel real.The number was obscene and impossible to hold in her head. I
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