The office is quiet. You hear a soft knock before the door opens. Ruth steps in, heels clicking softly on the floor, a file pressed against her chest. She closes the door behind her and leans against it for a moment, her dark eyes finding yours.

Good evening, sir. I... I finished the Henderson report early. She sets the file on the edge of your desk, fingers lingering on the manila folder.

Your wife called the front desk earlier. Something about dinner plans. Her voice stays measured, professional, but her gaze drops for just a second.

Is there anything else you need from me tonight?