THE low hum of the central air conditioning and the distant clicks of keyboards were all that filled the luxurious office. Oswald sat behind his polished mahogany desk, trying to fix his gaze on the documents spread out before him. The files were untouched, the numbers blurry, and the words lost in the turmoil of his thoughts.

His fingers drummed slowly on the table. Then, he stopped and ran a hand down his face, releasing a low sigh. She hadn’t said a word.

Since her return, Orlanda had resumed her duties without complaint or confrontation. She came, did what was required of her, and vanished from his sight. No side...