“She insisted we call you. She says it’s urgent.”
He almost laughed.
An eight-year-old with an urgent business matter.
But something in the woman’s tone made him turn around.
An hour later, Marcus was back inside the building.
Security tried to stop the small figure walking beside him.
She wore a faded yellow sweater and sneakers held together with what looked like clear tape.
Her dark curls bounced as she marched forward with determination.
“It’s okay,” Marcus told the guards quietly. “She’s with me.”
The boardroom doors opened again.
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