#Chapter 82: Office Sabotage

It started with a missing folder. Not mine, Richard's. One of the red-sticker binders that held his weekly press strategy schedule. I hadn’t touched it, but he asked if I’d seen it, and when I said no, he didn’t press. Just nodded and moved on like he already had a theory, or worse, like he already knew. The whole week felt off-kilter. Meetings ran too long or ended abruptly, people forgot to CC the right threads and printed the wrong drafts. Adam kept hovering by the water cooler, outside Richard’s office, lingering by the printers like he was waiting for something, or someone. He was polite but twitchy, overhelpful in a way that didn’t feel like him, always volunteering to deliver messages or pick up briefing packets. Twice, I caught him glancing toward my screen when he passed behind my desk, and even though he smiled like it was nothing, my stomach had started curling tighter by the day. I tried not to jump to conclusions, but the briefing notes for Friday’s debate prep came