The Penthouse
In the elevator, he kept briefing me.
“Congratulate Tom Morrison on his deal. Avoid Jennifer Whitfield if she’s drunk. And please, smile more. My career depends on these relationships.”
His career. Never ours.
At Marcus’s penthouse, Caleb transformed instantly — handshake firm, grin polished.
“Marcus! Good to see you.”
“Caleb,” Marcus said warmly. “And Clare.”
He said my name like an afterthought.
“Clare works at the hospital,” Caleb added smoothly.
Not runs the cardiac surgery unit.
Not saved a child’s life today.
Just works at the hospital.
