Vega Enterprises, Floor 27, was quiet at 6:42 PM.
Most of Accounting had gone home. Katrina stayed. The Mexico City audit wasn't due until Friday, but Sofia said "early is better than perfect."
Katrina agreed. Numbers were safe. Numbers didn't ask questions about contracts or West Wings.
She clicked save on the spreadsheet. Column J balanced. Column K balanced. All the way to Column Z.
Three weeks of Excel at midnight. It paid off.
"Still here, Hale-Vega?"
She didn't jump. She'd learned to expect Daniel Shaw's voice.
Daniel sat two cubicles down. Twenty-eight, promoted twice, and allergic to responsibility. He leaned on her desk now, tie loose, smiling the way men smiled when they wanted something.
"Just finishing," she said. Eyes on the screen. Rule #1 at work: don't engage.
"You finished three hours ago." He tapped her printed summary. "Sofia's going to love this. Mexico City's been a mess since 2022. You fixed it in a week."
"It wasn't broken," Katrina said. "Just… unorganized."
Daniel laughed. "Modest. I like that." He picked up her summary. "Mind if I –"
The printer at the end of the row whirred. Daniel's face changed.
"Shit."
Katrina looked up. Sofia was walking toward them, heels sharp, holding a paper. Her mouth was a line.
"Shaw. Hale-Vega. My office."
Daniel went pale. Katrina's stomach dropped.
Sofia's office smelled like coffee and bad news. She dropped the paper on the desk. A transfer form. Mexico City to Dallas. $48,000 misallocated.
"This was submitted at 4:17 PM," Sofia said. "With my digital signature. I didn't sign it."
Daniel didn't breathe. Katrina read the form upside down. The calculation was wrong. Line 14. Someone forgot to carry the 2. Rookie mistake.
It was Daniel's login. Daniel's project before she took over.
"Who ran this?" Sofia asked.
Silence.
Katrina opened her mouth. Closed it.
_Save it to the blood._
But this wasn't the contract. This was work. This was –
"It was me," Daniel said. Then he looked at Katrina. "Well. It was her draft. I just… submitted it. I thought she checked it."
Liar.
Katrina had never seen that form. Her audit didn't touch transfers. She did reconciliations. Sofia knew that.
Sofia looked at Katrina. "Did you?"
Katrina thought of Richard tearing her application letters. _"You don't need to work."_
Thought of Matteo. _"Wives don't work."_
Thought of Rule #5: _We are strangers outside required events._
If she said no, Daniel would argue. Sofia would investigate. Alexandra Vega's name would be in the middle of an office fight on Day One.
_We present as married at required events only._
"I should have double-checked," Katrina said. Voice level. "I'll fix it tonight."
Sofia's eyes narrowed. But she nodded. "Fix it. Both of you. On my desk by 8AM. No mistakes."
The door shut. Daniel exhaled. "Thanks. I owe you."
Katrina didn't answer. She took the form, went back to her cubicle, and fixed it. Line 14. Carry the 2. Done in six minutes.
She left at 7:30 PM.
West Wing was dark when she got home. She dropped her bag, kicked off her heels, and fell asleep on the couch with the corrected form on her chest.
She didn't hear the East Wing door open at 10:12 PM.
Didn't hear footsteps in the hall.
Didn't feel the paper slide from her hands.
Alexandra Vega read standing up.
One page. Her handwriting. Line 14, corrected. $48,000, allocated right. A sticky note: _Sofia - 8AM. Sorry for error. – K._
Error.
He flipped the page. Her draft calculations underneath. Clean. Correct. Line 14 was never wrong in her math.
So why did she apologize?
His jaw locked.
He set the paper on the coffee table. Looked at her. Asleep. Dark circles. Blazer still on.
_She looks like she could do it._ That's what he thought in the car.
Now he thought: _She did do it. And took blame for something she didn't break._
He left. East Wing door shut at 10:19 PM.
---
Katrina woke at 5:00 AM. The paper was on the coffee table. Weighted down by his phone.
His phone. In the West Wing.
Rule #2 broken.
She picked it up. One text to herself, unsent:
*A.V.:* My office. 7AM.
Not a request.
Vega Enterprises at 7AM was empty. Alexandra's office was on 51. Glass walls. City below.
He didn't sit. He stood by the window, back to her. Suit. Mask on.
"Explain," he said.
Katrina shut the door. "The transfer was –"
"Not the transfer." He turned. Eyes cold. "Explain why your correct calculation has an apology on it. Explain why you told Sofia you made a mistake."
She froze. He saw.
"How –"
"Your bag was open. Paper falls out. I read." No apology for it. "Answer me."
Katrina's hands shook. She hid them in her blazer. "It's… better to keep quiet. In situations like that."
"Better for who?"
"Better for… everyone. Daniel would've argued. It would've become a thing. Your name –"
"My name," he cut in, voice ice, "is already on the building. It doesn't need your silence to protect it."
She flinched.
"You did the work," he said. Each word precise. "You did it right. And you let him take credit for your silence and blame for your work. Why?"
_Because Richard. Because Matteo. Because wives don't work._
"Because I'm used to it," she whispered.
The room went airless.
Alexandra stared at her. For once, the mask cracked. Not soft. Furious.
"Used to it," he repeated.
"Yes."
He laughed. One sound. No humor. "No. You're not." He walked to his desk. Hit the intercom. "Sofia. My office. Now."
"Alexandra –"
"Rule #7 doesn't apply when my employee is lying to protect incompetence," he said. "Vega Enterprises doesn't do incompetence."
Sofia arrived in two minutes. Saw Katrina. Saw Alexandra.
"Shaw's being moved to Auditing," Alexandra said. No hello. "Effective immediately. His desk will be cleared by 9."
Sofia blinked. "On what –"
"On the fact that he forged your signature and blamed Hale-Vega for his error." He slid Katrina's correction across the desk. "She fixed it in six minutes. He couldn't do it in six days."
Sofia read. Looked at Katrina. Back at Alexandra. "You knew?"
"I know everything in my building."
Sofia's mouth twitched. "And Mrs. Vega?"
"Is my employee," Alexandra said. "And she doesn't take blame for other people's work. Not anymore."
He looked at Katrina. "You're on Mexico City alone. No Shaw. No partners. Your deadline is Wednesday, not Friday. Because you can do it."
Punishment. Or test. Or both.
"Yes, Mr. Vega," Katrina said.
"Good." He sat. Dismissed. "Close the door."
---
West Wing, 9:47 PM.
Katrina's laptop burned. Mexico City files, all of them. Wednesday deadline. Because she didn't speak up.
The East Wing door opened. Footsteps. Then a knock.
She didn't answer.
The door opened anyway.
Alexandra stood there. No suit. Black shirt. The one from Sunday night.
"You're angry," he said.
"You gave me twice the work."
"I gave you what you earned," he corrected. "And what you'll get every time you choose silence over truth."
_Save it to the blood._
He stepped in. Didn't touch. Never touched. But the air bent.
"Next time someone lies," he said, low, "you don't take the blame. You give me the name. I'll handle the rest."
"That's not the contract," she whispered.
"The contract says you're my wife," he said. "It doesn't say you're my ghost."
He left. East Wing door shut.
Katrina looked at her screen. Wednesday. Mexico City. Alone.
Tolerable was over.
Monday started with numbers. Tuesday started with .