The hardest part about getting your life back is pretending it was never taken from you.Clara stood in front of the Baltimore Crest building for a long time before walking in.Same glass doors, same polished floors, same quiet hum of ambition, but everything felt different.Not because the building had changed, but because she had.Her name had been cleared, her job was reinstated, her apology issued, yet none of that erased the memory of standing in that boardroom, accused and alone.She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and stepped inside.One step, then another. Every movement was deliberate and controlled.The lobby receptionist looked up. There was a flicker of recognition, then a polite smile.“Good morning, Miss Bennett.”Clara nodded. “Good morning.”The words felt heavier than they should have.As she walked toward the elevator, she could feel it.Eyes around her, not obvious, not open, but present.People knew. Of course they knew. Stories travelled faster than truth.Inside
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