Silence.
Not the quiet kind.
The sharp kind that hits fast and hard.
Jocelyn’s expression froze.
Trent didn’t move, but his eyes changed.
There it was.
I folded the paper once, slowly.
“You should really stop using offshore shells tied to the same routing pattern,” I added. “It’s lazy.”
Jocelyn grabbed my arm, pressing just enough to make a point.
“What are you talking about?”
I pulled my arm free without force.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Trent exhaled through his nose, composure slipping for the first time.
“Careful.”
I met his gaze again.
“Or what?”
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Jocelyn stepped in, voice sharper now.
“You’re out of line.”
“No,” I said. “You’re out of options.”
That landed.
I saw it in her shoulders, in the way she shifted her weight.
Trent glanced toward the main room, then back at me, recalculating.
Fast.
Always fast.
Then he smiled again.
Different this time.
Forced.
“Okay,” he said lightly. “Let’s not make a scene.”
“I’m not.”
Jocelyn leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m thinking very clearly.”
She looked at Trent.
That was the moment, the shift.
Panic just under the surface.
He nodded once.
Decision made.
Jocelyn’s tone flipped instantly, louder now, sharp enough to cut through nearby conversations.
“Cassidy, you need to calm down.”
A couple of heads turned.
I didn’t react.
Trent stepped in beside her.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, putting a hand out like he was trying to help. “You’re getting worked up.”
I looked at him.
Didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“I’m not.”
Jocelyn raised her voice just a little more.
“You’re making accusations that don’t make sense.”
More people were watching now.
Good.
Trent leaned in, lowering his voice again, but the tone had changed completely.
“We’re trying to help you.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re trying to fix your mess.”
That was it.
