Chapter 25. Exit Wound

The moment Alyssa stepped through the revolving doors, she sensed it: the office had shifted in her absence, or perhaps she had. The lobby’s polished marble gleamed under harsh LED panels, its temperature artificially cool, its air faintly scented with new leather and disinfectant. The distant hum of elevators and murmured conversations echoed off the concrete walls. Every element—glass, steel, the pristine art installations—felt no longer like the environment she’d once shaped, but like a meticulously designed showroom built to impress, not to welcome.

She lifted her chin and walked on, her black stilettos making no sound on the seamless floor. A row of framed quotes about innovation and disruption lined the corridor: “Break the Mold,” “Innovate or Die,” “Disrupt the Narrative.” Each one sent a shiver up her spine. Where she’d once seen inspiration, now she saw hollow slogans. Colleagues passed in clusters, sipping lattes or tapping at their phones, offering polite nods that