Julian heard the slip the way one hears a glass crack, quiet, but impossible to unhear once it happens.
He was standing in the side room off the main lounge, the one with the low lighting and the heavy furniture that always made the space feel smaller than it was.
The man in front of him was one of the newer ones. Not high enough in the structure to speak directly to Lucian, but trusted enough to be sent with documents and messages.
His name was Marcus, or maybe Michael. Julian had never bothered to remember properly.
"Mr. Voss, the files you asked—"
The man stopped mid-breath.
His eyes widened just a fraction, the kind of small panic that people try to hide when they realize they've made a mistake in front of the wrong person.
He cleared his throat quickly.
"Mr. Marlowe," he corrected, voice smooth again. "Sorry about that. The files you asked for are ready."
He held out the thin folder like nothing had happened.
Julian didn't take it immediately.
