The following Tuesday at exactly 9:58 a.m., the glass lobby doors opened, and the hum of morning chatter abruptly stopped.
In walked a man, tall and confident, in a navy-blue suit tailored to perfection. Polished shoes echoed across the marble floor. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and his posture exuded quiet authority.
Claire froze.
It was Tom.
He looked nothing like the man she’d met on the steps. And yet, it was unmistakably him.
“Good morning,” he said to the room, his voice smooth and commanding. “I’m Thomas Whitaker, Executive Strategy Director with the Whitaker Group. I look forward to working closely with each of you.”
The silence was almost comical. You could hear a pen drop. Elena’s eyes widened. Sean’s jaw slackened visibly.
Thomas turned toward Claire and smiled—a quiet, meaningful nod.
“Miss Claire,” he said warmly. “I believe I owe someone a proper coffee.”
