“Psst!” someone hisses behind me. An elderly secretary wearing chunky round-frame glasses in decidedly noncorporate Yohji Yamamoto-esque apparel fit for an assassin. I think I recognize her. Her cube is unique in that it’s plastered over with cat photos. Cats knitting. Cats drinking from teacups. Cats doing all kinds of weird shit only grandparents and Noni do.

“You’re Thaïs, right?” she whispers.

I nod. “Why are we whispering?” I whisper back.

She peeks over her cube. “Corporate policy. The bastards insist we stay hushed when Nítuchí is holding a board meeting on the floor.” She scrunches up her nose just as I scrunch up mine, and we both snort into our hands.

“You were here in my dad’s time, weren’t you?” I ask.

She nods once. “They haven’t sent me out to pasture yet because I’m the most senior admin, and I know where all the bodies are buried. I’ve been here close to fifty years now.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “Best boss I ever had, your dad. No-nonsense.”

“Except for the gold everywhere,” I whisper back.

Her eyebrow twitches. “That wasn’t him, honey. He was oblivious to that.” She waves a hand at his office. “He took the smallest office on the floor and hardly decorated it at all.”

“Why’d no one take it?” I ask her. I don’t add, Bad vibes? even though I wonder if people think it’s cursed.

“Well, no one else wants the view of Stökéwood,” she says, pointing into the distance. And when I squint and almost—almost—see it there, my eyes start to water. I dab at them before they smear my makeup.

“Bathroom?” I ask her, throat hoarse.

“It’s just over there, but it’s a bit complicated—want me to show you?” she asks, caressing my shoulder. Her touch makes my eyes well up again.

“No, I’m fine,” I say, squeezing her back. “Thank you.”

Noni and Teddy find me blubbering next to the only women’s bathroom on the floor, crouched beside the door because I couldn’t get it to open. I fiddle with the straps of the wedges cutting into my skin.

“Silly biometrics,” Noni says, sliding down the wall to sit beside me while Teddy posts himself next to us like a sympathetic guard.

“I’m sorry, Tai. I didn’t know Nítuchí would do it this way. I told him to let me tell you myself, but—”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Noni whispers.

“You’re right,” Teddy says, echoing our thoughts. “It’s unacceptable. I should’ve known better. I just didn’t think he would do it to you.”

And I soften. Because he did try to protect us, in the meeting. But the fact stands: We’re as good as adults now, and we should know better, too.

The meeting’s not what I’m crying about, anyway.