#8 "I Hope That's Not A Threat."

As Sophia stepped out of the sleek chrome elevators the following day, she found the usual hum of office gossip conspicuously absent. Instead, the atmosphere was charged with focused productivity. The air reverberated with the clicking of keyboards, the persistent ringing of phones, and the steady whir of the copy machines.

Before Sophia could even shut the door to her office, Trevor burst in, loaded with stacks of case files.

"Good morning, Trevor," Sophia greeted him with a yawn, the lingering effects of last night's whiskey leaving her slightly foggy.

"Good morning, Ms. Johnson," Trevor responded, his voice brimming with eagerness.

"All right, I can see you have some important matters. Let's dive right in," Sophia said, sitting at her desk while Trevor settled into a plush wingback chair opposite her. He flashed a reassuring smile and placed the first case file before her.

"We have two major cases on our plate. The first is an antitrust investigation involving the Dillon Corpor