(Elara POV)
By the time the meeting request comes through, I already know it isn't routine.
It's the phrasing that gives it away.
Quick sync : Alignment discussion.
Just to make sure we're all on the same page.
Those are the kinds of words people use when they don't want witnesses, only impressions.
I save my work and stand, smoothing the skirt I bought secondhand last winter, the fabric soft at the hem from too many washes. The elevator ride up feels longer than usual, the silence pressing in as the floor numbers light up one by one.
The conference room is already half full when I arrive.
Vivienne sits near the head of the table, tablet resting neatly beside her, posture relaxed in a way that suggests she belongs there without effort. A few department heads murmur quietly among themselves. Alex stands near the window, phone pressed to his ear, attention split between the city outside and whatever conversation he's finishing.
No one looks at me when I enter.
That, too, feels deliberate.
I take the seat closest to the door, laptop open, hands folded loosely in my lap. I don't log in yet. I've learned better than that.
The meeting starts without ceremony.
Vivienne doesn't clear her throat or raise her voice. She never does. She simply begins speaking, and the room adjusts accordingly.
"We've had some discrepancies in the Q3 projections," she says, scrolling through a presentation that appears seamlessly on the screen. "Nothing alarming, but enough to warrant clarification."
Her gaze flicks in my direction briefly. Not accusatory. Almost thoughtful.
I straighten slightly.
"The revised cost allocations," she continues, "were meant to reflect a conservative approach. However, the updated file wasn't uploaded to the shared drive."
There's a pause. The kind that waits.
I swallow and lean forward, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "I—"
The system rejects my login.
The message is polite. Neutral. Final.
Access denied.
My chest tightens, but I don't let it show. I don't look at Vivienne. I don't look at Alex. I keep my eyes on the screen, as if concentration alone might fix it.
Vivienne's voice continues smoothly. "Elara has been working closely on this, so perhaps she can clarify."
Every eye turns toward me.
I feel it then the heat at the back of my neck, the awareness of space closing in, the faint but unmistakable sense of being set up without a single rule being broken.
"I don't currently have access to the shared drive," I say carefully. "But the revised file was sent to—"
"Right," Vivienne interjects gently. "Due to the ongoing review, some permissions were temporarily adjusted."
Adjusted.
A kinder word than revoked. A safer one.
She turns back to the room. "This is exactly why I wanted us all aligned. We can't afford bottlenecks."
I nod, because that's what's expected. Because pushing back would only draw more attention to the fact that I'm the bottleneck she's describing.
Alex hasn't moved.
I don't look at him. I can feel his presence anyway, solid and unreadable at the edge of my awareness.
"I can resend the file immediately," I offer. "Or walk through the assumptions verbally."
Vivienne smiles. "Let's not put you on the spot."
The words are kind. The implication is not.
She taps her tablet, moving the discussion forward without me. Someone asks a question about margins. Someone else responds. The meeting flows around me like water around a stone.
I sit there, silent, hands folded, listening to my own work being discussed as if I'm no longer in the room.
When the meeting ends, chairs scrape softly against the floor. Conversations resume in low tones. People gather their things.
Vivienne rises last.
"Elara," she says, just loudly enough. "A moment?"
My stomach sinks, but I stand.
Alex is still by the window when she speaks again, her voice pitched perfectly between professional and personal.
"I understand this is a difficult position for you," she says, tilting her head sympathetically. "But optics matter. Especially right now."
"Yes," I reply. "I understand."
She studies me for a second longer, as if weighing something invisible. "You're very capable," she adds. "Just… be mindful of where your role begins and ends."
I nod again.
There's nothing else I can do.
She turns and leaves, heels clicking softly against the floor, already engaged in conversation with someone else.
The room empties.
I'm gathering my things when Alex finally moves.
He doesn't say anything at first. He simply closes the distance between us, standing close enough that I can see the faint crease between his brows, the one that only appears when something isn't sitting right with him.
"That shouldn't have happened," he says quietly.
"It's fine," I reply automatically. "I should have anticipated it."
His gaze sharpens slightly. "Anticipated being sidelined?"
I hesitate. "Anticipated… constraints."
He exhales, slow and controlled.
"You were set up," he says.
I lower my eyes. "It's temporary."
"That's not the point."
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The city hums outside, distant and indifferent.
"Your access," he continues, "wasn't meant to be used like that."
"I know," I say.
"Do you?" he asks.
I look up then. There's something in his expression I haven't seen before .
My hands curl slightly at my sides.
"I don't want to cause trouble," I say quietly.
That makes him look at me differently.
"You didn't," he replies. "That's the problem."
He steps back, restoring the distance between us, control sliding back into place like a well-worn jacket.
"I'll fix the access," he says. "Not publicly."
I nod, relief and unease tangling together.
"But," he continues, "until then, you don't put yourself in that position again."
"How?" I ask, genuinely unsure.
He considers me for a moment.
"By staying close," he says. "And by letting me speak when it matters."
The words aren't comforting. They're directive.
I nod anyway.
As I return to my desk later, the office feels different. Quieter. Watchful.
Vivienne passes by once, offering a polite smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
She doesn't need to say anything.
She already has.
And as I sit down, opening my laptop and waiting for access that may or may not return in time to matter, I realize something with a clarity that makes my chest ache.
This isn't about mistakes.
It's about visibility.
And Vivienne has just shown me exactly how easy it is to make someone disappear without ever raising her voice.