POV: Aurora
I don't expect the email to be from Andrade.
"Subject: Meeting with foundation – Mandatory attendance."
Today, at the last minute, a working meeting with people from the Valcourt Foundation to review Seraphim. Attendee list: Andrade, Finance, two last names I don't know... and me.
It doesn't say "Elías," but it doesn't need to.
I go to Lina's cubicle with the phone in my hand.
"Did you get this?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"Only you, genius," she says. "I thought your boss had sent the foundation packing."
"He turned down an event at a hotel," I reply. "Now they're coming here."
Lina clicks her tongue.
"Then be careful what you say and how you look," she adds. "Those people never invite anyone for free."
I'd love to skip the "mandatory meeting," but I can't. I'm the one who set up the crossovers they're going to see.
The meeting room on the thirty-first floor is hardly ever used. Today it's spotless: glass table, bottles of water, screens turned on.
I walk in with my laptop. Andrade is talking to a woman in a dark suit. He introduces her to me; I smile, forget her name.
The door opens again.
Elías enters as if the room were his own. Light-colored suit, perfect tie, ready smile. He carries a briefcase and that expensive scent I already recognize.
"Thank you for seeing us," he says. "I know you're up to your neck in work."
He sits in front of the screen, on the "guests" side. I sit two seats down, diagonally across from him.
"Aurora, you can project the preview," Andrade says. "Miss Vega has sorted most of the cross-references."
I connect the cable. Seraphim fills the monitor.
I begin to explain.
Trends, imbalances, strange cases. Andrade translates, Finance takes notes. Elias listens, quiet.
When I get to the sensitive part, he speaks for the first time.
"Stop there, please."
It's a graph about repeat beneficiaries and unusual patterns.
"That group of dots," he points. "Does it match the areas we marked last year?"
I mark the sector.
"Not entirely," I reply. "There is overlap, but also new areas. That caught our attention."
He nods.
"And the selection of beneficiaries?" he asks. "I see repeated surnames."
I noticed that, but only in my private notes.
"Where did you see it?" I ask without thinking.
He smiles, barely.
"Don't underestimate the data we cross-reference at the foundation," he says. "It would be a shame to fund a project that doesn't see when someone is cheating."
My stomach tightens. He speaks as if he has access to something I haven't sent. Or someone is telling him more than they should.
Andrade quickly intervenes.
"Aurora is working on an addendum about those patterns," he says. "When it's ready, we'll send it."
Elías looks at me.
"I'd like to see it first, if you don't mind," he adds. "Sometimes a quick conversation saves a lot of emails."
"First." That word is never innocent.
"The reports are sent through the usual channels," I reply. "If management authorizes it, I have no problem clarifying any questions."
He nods, satisfied.
We continue. I finish my presentation. I talk about limitations, adjustment proposals. I try to focus on the numbers, but I feel his gaze every time I open my mouth.
In the end, the woman in the dark suit thanks us, and Andrade mentions deadlines. I close my laptop.
Just when I think it's all over, Elias walks around the table and stops next to me.
"Aurora," he says. "Do you have five minutes to discuss something that occurred to me?"
Andrade looks at his watch.
"I have to go up to the thirty-fifth floor," he says. "But if it's brief..."
"I promise not to kidnap you," Elías jokes.
"I can stay," I reply. "As long as it's about Seraphim."
The others leave. The door closes. We are alone, reflected in the glass.
Elías leans on the edge of the table.
"I'm not going to lie to you," he says. "You surprised me."
"I just did my job," I reply.
"You did it better than most," he says. "You didn't look at the numbers as boxes, but as symptoms. That's rare."
I don't know what to make of that "rare."
"I noticed something else," he adds. You didn't flinch when I mentioned repeated surnames. You just wanted to know how I knew.
He's right, and he knows it.
"I like to understand what others know before I decide what to say," I reply.
His eyes light up.
"Good instinct," he says. "It's going to save you more than once."
He watches me as if looking for cracks.
"Dante cares about you a lot," he comments. "I saw it in how he cut our invitation. And in how he entered your name into the system."
I feel a twinge.
"He's my boss," I reply. "And he's in charge of Seraphim."
"He's more than that," he says softly. "Men like him don't get their hands dirty for just anyone."
He takes a small step toward me. He doesn't invade my space, but his scent reaches me clearly, mixed with coffee and glass.
"I just want you to keep something in mind, Aurora," he adds. "The word 'protection' always comes with fine print. His and mine. The difference is how much they tell you about the price."
He says it in the plural, as if he were included in the list of options.
"At least he's explaining the game to me," I reply. Others only speak in code.
He chuckles softly.
"Point for Noir," he admits. "But we're playing in the same league."
He tilts his head.
"When you get tired of everything going through him, you can come talk to me," he says. "Not as a foundation man. As someone who understands what you are and what you're worth."
The word "are" sticks with me.
"For now, I have enough with one possessive boss," I reply. "I don't need two."
He is silent for a second, then smiles.
"I like that you say things like that," he says. "Those who accept without question usually end up worse off."
He straightens up.
"That's all for today," he adds.
He walks toward the door. Before leaving, he stops.
"And Aurora," he says, without turning around. "When the time comes to choose a name, make sure it's one that sees you as more than just a tool."
He leaves.
I'm left alone in the glass room, with my reflection in the glass and a thought stuck in my chest:
Today they didn't just come to look at data.
They came to measure my worth.