The knock came again, more insistent this time, and I looked up to see a young man in a navy suit standing at the door. “Ms. Thompson?” he asked, his voice steady and professional. “Yes, that’s me,” I replied, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. “Can I help you with something?” He hesitated for a moment, as though weighing his words carefully. “I was told you might have received something that belongs to our client. It’s important that it doesn’t leave the premises.” I studied his face, searching for any hint of what might lie beneath his composed exterior. “It’s just some paperwork,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. “But I understand the importance of confidentiality.” The man nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. “I appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Thompson. If you could just leave the envelope here, I will ensure it’s returned to its rightful owner.” His request was polite, yet there was an unmistakable edge to his words, a reminder of the delicate power dance we were both engaged in.
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