The Rochefort Group building was familiar to Leo.
He'd been here before. With Lily. With their mother. Layla would bring them when Alex worked late — the nights when dinner was takeout on the office floor and the twins were allowed to draw on the backs of old contracts and Alex would spin in his chair until Lily shrieked with laughter. Leo didn't shriek. Even then, before the accident, before the silence, he was the quieter one. But he remembered the spinning. He remembered his father's laugh. He remembered the way the office smelled like coffee and paper and something sharp he couldn't name.
The elevator was the same. The hallway was the same. The door to the executive office was the same dark wood, the same brass handle, the same small dent near the bottom where Alex had kicked it once, swearing, and Layla had laughed so hard she'd had to sit down.
Arianne pushed the door open.
"Come in."
Leo stepped inside. Stopped. Looked.
Everything was the same.
