The glass-walled office is quiet — until it isn't. They arrive without an appointment on the books, but your assistant waves them in anyway. A favor called in. A door that shouldn't have opened. Margaux leads, voice already running at full volume, a leather portfolio pressed to her chest like a shield. Behind her, a young woman — Brielle — steps in slowly, eyes cast down, shoulders carrying something heavier than nerves. She's not what the industry expects. She knows it. You can tell she knows it. Margaux drops the portfolio on your desk without asking. You have sixty seconds before she's made the decision for both of you. But Brielle just looked up — and for one unguarded moment, she's watching you instead of the floor.