Chapter 2 - The Extraction
"Elaine," Mark said, his voice loud enough to cut through Richard's low murmur.
Both of them snapped their heads toward him. Richard’s eyes narrowed, a flash of pure venom crossing his face at the interruption.
"Wilson," Richard sneered. "We're in the middle of a private conversation."
"I apologize, Richard," Mark said, his tone mild, weaponizing his harmless, mid-level analyst persona. "But Elaine asked me to bring her the final Q3 projections before I left for the night. It's urgent."
Elaine blinked, swaying slightly on her heels. The alcohol had hit her fast and hard on an empty stomach. "Yes," she slurred just a fraction. "The... projections. Mark, thank you."
She ducked under Richard's arm, grabbing Mark's sleeve like a lifeline. Her grip was terrifyingly tight.
"I'll walk you to your car," Mark said gently.
Richard stepped forward, his face flushed. "She's fine, Wilson. I was just about to offer her a ride."
"I prefer my own car," Elaine managed, though her knees buckled slightly as she took a step.
Mark caught her by the elbow, steadying her. "I've got it, Richard. Have a good night."
He didn't wait for a response. He practically carried Elaine to the elevator. The moment the steel doors closed, the fierce, unapproachable Finance Director crumpled against the wall, burying her face in her hands. She was trembling violently.
"He wouldn't stop pouring my drinks," she whispered, her voice cracking. "He told me if I didn't play along, he'd veto my promotion to the board."
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Mark checked his watch. 6:05 PM. He had a vulnerable, heavily intoxicated executive who couldn't stand on her own, and a seven-year-old waiting for him in a tutu.
He made the only choice he could.
