Chapter 191: Ripples on the Eve of the Storm

The sharp, sterile scent of industrial-grade cleaner filled Howell Showyer’s nostrils as she stood before the polished oak desk. Her superior, Director Evans, a man whose face seemed permanently etched with disappointment, steepled his fingers and stared at her over them. The silence in the office was a physical weight, pressing down on her shoulders. “Showyer,” he began, his voice low and devoid of warmth. “I have always considered you one of our most promising officers. Professional....