Chapter 4
The floor supervisor came in like she owned the break room.
I heard her heels before I saw her. Sharp clicks on the tile, steady, unhurried. She pushed the door open the rest of the way with her hip, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She was in her forties, hair pulled into that tight ponytail she always wore, black blazer with the sleeves pushed to her elbows. She didn't look at me at first. She looked at him.
"Needed me?" she said.
He was standing by the small table where he'd left the schedule papers stacked. He didn't answer right away. He slid the top sheet toward her. My schedule. The header MAYA COLLINS faced up, the yellow blocks at 15:00 and 15:07 bright under the fluorescent light.
"I wanted to compare something," he said. His voice was even. Not accusing. Just calm in a way that made me hold my breath.
She set her coffee down and picked up the paper. She glanced at it, then at me, then back at it. A small frown.
"Her hours got heavy this week," she said. "We were short. She covered."
"Did she?" he asked. He laid a second sheet next to mine. This one was the master overtime log from the office, copied that afternoon. It had three rows for my name, Tuesday through Thursday, each initialed with Olivia's code. 4472. The handwriting on all three was the same loopy, right-leaning script that had filled in my time blocks.
He tapped the loopy writing. Then he tapped my file signature underneath, where I'd signed my onboarding forms last year. My signature was small, tight, cramped, the y in Maya looping back under itself.
"Look at the handwriting," he said.
She leaned in. I watched her face. For a second her mouth tightened, just a flicker at the corner. Then she smoothed it.
"Looks like hers to me," she said. "Maybe she was in a hurry."
"It doesn't look like hers to me," he said. He didn't raise his voice. One of the bodyguards was still stationed outside the open door, arms crossed, saying nothing. The supervisor shifted her weight.
"I approve dozens of these a day," she said. Her tone turned defensive, a little sharper. "If Olivia's code was used, maybe she logged in remotely. She does that sometimes."
"Olivia's been in New York for a week," he said. "She hasn't logged in at all. IT confirmed it ten minutes ago."
That landed. The supervisor's hand froze over the paper. She looked down at the 4472 codes again.
"Well, then someone must have typed her code by mistake," she said. "It wasn't me. I don't even have her code."
"You had the paper," he said quietly. He slid my schedule an inch toward her. "You handed this to Maya on Tuesday at clock-out. She remembers you saying Olivia approved it."
She laughed, short and hard.
"She's exhausted, sir. She fell asleep on the marble table in front of you. I'm not sure her memory is reliable right now."
That sting hit. I felt heat rush up my neck. I stared at the white cleaning cloth still bunched in my lap. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I hadn't meant to be evidence.
I forced myself to speak.
"I remember," I said. My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "You came to the elevator with the paper. You said there was a call-out."
She turned on me then, eyes narrowed.
"Maya, honey, I asked if you could cover and you said yes. Don't make this bigger than it is."
He put a hand up, not touching either of us, just a flat palm in the air.
"Nobody needs to make it bigger," he said. "We just need proof. If you didn't write this, and you didn't enter the code, then the camera and the terminal log will show who did."
For a moment no one moved. The supervisor picked up her coffee again, fingers tight around the cup.
"Then check," she said, chin lifting. "Check whatever you want. You'll see I follow procedure."
He gathered both sheets and squared them on the table. He looked at me once, then at her.
May you like
"Stay available," he said to her. "Don't leave the building."
She didn't answer. She walked out, heels clicking faster now, and left the door open behind her.
