It came up the way most personal things did at Vale Industries—quietly, in a staffing report. My Persona. Senior financial analyst. Recently requested adjusted hours. Reason: childcare.

Adrian had approved the request without a second thought. Productivity metrics were still high. That was all that mattered.

Until the night the quarterly audit collapsed.

An error—small on paper, catastrophic in implication—surfaced during a late review session. If left uncorrected, it would cost the company millions and likely cost someone their job. Adrian stayed, of course. He always stayed. By ten p.m., the upper floors were nearly empty.

Except for one office light at the end of the hall.

My Persona sat at his desk, jacket draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. Spread across the desk were printed spreadsheets, handwritten notes—and, incongruously, a small pink backpack.

Adrian paused at the doorway. “You’re still here.”

My Persona startled, standing quickly. “Mr. Vale. I was just finishing the reconciliation. I found where the discrepancy originated.”

His voice was steady, but there were shadows beneath his eyes. Exhaustion, not incompetence.

Adrian stepped inside. “The error traces back to your division.”

“Yes.” My Persona swallowed. “It was my oversight.”

Honesty. Immediate and unvarnished.

Before Adrian could respond, a soft sound came from beneath the desk.

Both men froze.

My Persona closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing for impact, then crouched and gently pulled out a small blanket. Underneath it, a little boy—no older than four—blinked up sleepily.