บททั้งหมดของ One Night, Wrong Man: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

*POV Derby*Whispers did not exist on the executive floor; they were replaced by a cold, high-frequency silence that felt infinitely more dangerous. Downstairs, the open-plan bullpen of the lower analytics tier was a chaotic symphony of clicking keyboards, ringing phones, and casual morning complaints. Up here on the forty-second floor, the air felt pressurized, smelling faintly of expensive leather, fresh orchids, and triple-filtered oxygen.Derby smoothed down the fabric of her tailored slacks, keeping her eyes fixed on the glass partition of her new cubicle. She felt entirely exposed. Unlike her old corner desk with its protective partition walls, this workstation was a sleek, minimalist island of brushed steel and tempered glass. Everyone who walked toward the managing director’s office had to pass her. And they all stared.They didn't glare. They didn't sneer. Instead, senior partners and executive assistants alike offered polite, razor-thin smiles that never reached their eyes.

*POV Derby* Fluorescent lights buzzed with a clinical, unforgiving glare on Wednesday morning, reflecting off the glass partitions of the executive suite. Derby stared at her inbox, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Overnight, her task list had mutated. It wasn't just her regular data-modeling assignments anymore; five new high-priority project briefs had been routed directly to her terminal. None of them belonged to her department. "Miss Odellia, I’ve forwarded you the risk assessment for the maritime logistics sector," Harrison, a senior vice president from acquisitions, said as he dropped a thick physical binder onto her desk. He didn't wait for her to look up, offering a polite, almost reverent nod. "We’d highly appreciate your unique perspective on this before we submit it to the managing director's desk." Derby stared at the heavy binder. "Mr. Harrison, the acquisitions team usually drafts this. I'm still finalizing the European compliance data." "Yes, but we al

*POV Derby* The air conditioning in the main boardroom was always set to a freezing threshold, but today, it felt like an arctic chamber. A thick manila folder slid across the polished mahogany table, coming to a dead stop right in front of Derby. The sheer size of the printout was enough to make everyone’s posture stiffen. Vasquez Group had just secured the regional expansion project. It was huge. The kind of career-making portfolio that directors killed for, with a budget that had too many zeros to count. Derby’s fingers tightened around the edge of her tablet. A sudden stitch formed in her ribs. Don't blink, she told herself. Don't look weak. "A project of this scale requires seasoned hands," a voice boomed from the far end of the table. Senior Director Vance leaned forward, his tailored suit straining against his heavy frame. He didn't look at the project brief. His eyes were locked entirely on Derby, sharp and dripping with condescension. "We cannot afford liabilities. I se

*POV Derby* By eleven in the evening, the rain had turned the concrete streets into rushing, black rivers, blurring the headlights of passing taxis into smeared streaks of yellow. I dragged my feet through the lobby of my apartment building, my waterlogged heels squelching against the linoleum. My umbrella had collapsed three blocks back, leaving my hair plastered to my skull and my cheap wool coat thoroughly soaked through.ä Then came the final insult of the day A bright yellow, handwritten sign taped over the elevator doors: OUT OF ORDER. My chest tightened. Five floors. Five floors of steep, concrete stairs after three sleepless nights and a corporate execution delivered over the phone by Victor Vasquez. My body practically begged me to just sit down right there on the lobby floor and let the dampness take me. Instead, my fingers gripped the iron banister. Action first, thought later. I hauled my dead weight up the first flight, the muscles in my thighs burning instantl

*POV Derby* White cardstock sat perfectly centered on the dark wood of my desk, its gold-embossed edges catching the glare of the fluorescent lights. The delivery guy hadn’t even asked for a signature. He had simply dropped it off with a formal nod, as if delivering a royal decree to a low-tier commoner. I didn't pick it up immediately. I just stared at the heavy, elegant script looping across the front: Ms. Derby Odellia. Right below my name, the silver crest of the Hayden family family foundation gleamed with effortless authority. Tamara hadn’t wasted a single second after catching me in the hallway the previous evening. The trap wasn't hidden behind corporate red tape anymore; it was neatly wrapped in the guise of a high-society charity gala. "Is that... an invitation to the Hayden Autumn Benefit?" A sharp, slightly envious voice pulled me from my thoughts. Megan, one of the junior analysts from logistics, was leaning over the partition, her eyes fixed on the gold lettering. "