My computer's off, which is a little strange—but I boot it up as Penelope sits on the edge of my desk, watching what she can over the cubicle walls.
The computer whirs to life, its gentle hum a stark contrast to the thoughts whirling in my mind. My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating for a split second before I punch in my login credentials. The familiar company program interface greets me.
I type in the first client name from Fernsby's list, my heart rate quickening as the results populate the screen.
Everything matches.
Every. Single. Detail.
The knot in my stomach tightens as I dive deeper, clicking through to the service tabs.
Dates, times, consultants—it's all there, laid out in neat little rows. But something's off. My eyes narrow as I spot Scott's name. Once. Twice. Three times.
"What the hell?" I mutter under my breath.