Chapter 12
Late on a rainy Thursday evening, long after the rest of the executive floor had emptied out for the night, the private security desk downstairs contacted Eleanor’s office. A visitor was waiting in the lobby—someone not on the official registry, but someone security could not simply turn away without clearance.
Julian.
He looked unrecognizable. The immaculate green suit was gone, replaced by a cheap, damp trench coat that hung loosely over his visibly thinner frame. His blond hair was uncombed, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath his hollow eyes. He stood near the entrance, dripping rainwater onto the polished marble, looking every bit the desperate, broken man he had become.
Eleanor walked down in the private elevator, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty lobby. She wore a simple charcoal turtleneck and dark trousers, projecting an aura of calm, untouchable grace. She stopped ten paces away from him, hands resting quietly in her pockets, watching him with detached clinical curiosity.
Julian looked up, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. He took a hesitant step forward, but the private security guards tensed, and he stopped instantly.
"Eleanor," he rasped, his voice rough and broken. "Please. Just... five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."
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Eleanor did not move closer. "You have thirty seconds, Julian. Speak quickly."
Julian swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clutched the edges of his wet coat. "I made a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. Pendelton... he ruined me. Everyone has abandoned me. I have nothing left. If you could just... put in a word with the restructuring board, or offer a low-level consulting role... anything. I know the systems. I know how the firm operates."
