In the sleek, glass-walled boardroom of Cross Tech, the hum of the projector filled the air as Chiqui walked the team through a detailed proposal. Slide after slide flashed across the screen, her voice steady, professional.
But at the far end of the table, Greg sat frozen—his gaze fixed not on the presentation, but on the black screen of his phone.
He wasn't hearing a word.
Ethan, ever the attentive one, asked a couple of clarifying questions, and Chiqui answered with practiced ease, not missing a beat. Everyone seemed satisfied. Everyone… except Greg.
He tapped his thumb against his phone screen. Again. And again. Hoping for a vibration. A ping. Anything.
Nothing.
When the meeting finally drew to a close, laptops shutting, chairs scraping softly against the polished floor. That's when Harry, seated a few spots down, finally broke the silence.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, his tone gentle but marked with concern.
