“Ma’am, this is a restricted meeting. I can’t let you—”

“Is there a problem here?” Josephine’s voice came from behind me. I turned around.

She looked immaculate. A navy power suit and an expensive designer scarf. The uniform of someone who belonged in boardrooms.

“Cecily?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I have information to present to the board,” I said.

“Information?” she laughed. It was a sharp, performative sound. “About what? You work in the copy room,” she said.