The annual financial review always arrived with a sense of routine pressure. It came with predictable deadlines, structured expectations, and the familiar weight of accountability. Petra had handled it before, but this year felt different in a way she could not immediately explain. Maybe it was because Pete’s shadow still lingered across the older contracts. Or maybe it was because too many recent discoveries had made nothing feel purely administrative anymore. She sat in her office early that morning, long before most of the staff arrived, staring at the stack of files arranged neatly on her desk. Each one represented a decision made years ago under Pete’s leadership, decisions that had once seemed standard but now carried a different kind of silence. Oscar entered without knocking, as he often did when urgency replaced formality. “You started without me,” he said lightly, placing a second cup of coffee beside her. “I thought I could get through the first set before
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