Wednesday morning felt heavier than usual.
I woke at 6:45 a.m. in my own apartment, not the hotel suite, not the office. The bed was too small. The room smelled faintly of the detergent my mother still used. Familiar. Suffocating.
I dressed carefully. Dark jeans. Black cashmere sweater. No logos. Nothing that screamed money. I wanted her to see me, not the empire.
Kasia texted at 7:12.
Kasia: Office ready. Conference room 3 cleared. Joanna will stay out of sight unless needed. Coffee waiting.
Me: Good. Bring her in at 10:00 sharp. No interruptions.
I made breakfast simple. Eggs. Toast. The way she taught me.
When she walked into the kitchen at 8:30 she froze.
"You're cooking?"
I shrugged. "Thought we could eat together before we go."
She sat. Watched me plate the food.
We ate in silence at first.
Then she spoke.
"I looked up Thorn Publishing last night. The articles say you bought Inkwell for… a lot of money. They're calling you a prodigy. A wunderkind."
