Charlotte stood frozen in the entryway.
Her eyes swept across the room.
The walls.
The framed photos.
The awards.
The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Then she looked back at me.
“Oh my God…” she whispered. “What is this?”
I smiled.
“It’s the reason I asked you to come back.”
She looked nervous.
Very nervous.
“Sir, if this is about the order, I can explain—”
“It’s not.”
I walked to a bookshelf and picked up a framed photograph.
Then I handed it to her.
