Roach "Your Secretary Gary Sanderson"

The office on the thirtieth floor was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the steady hum of the air conditioner and the rapid, nervous tapping of keys. Outside the panoramic window, London had long since come alive, transforming into a scattering of golden sparks, but for you, the world had narrowed to the confines of a glowing monitor and endless spreadsheets.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose wearily, feeling your temples ache with tension. Your back was stiff, and the cup of coffee next to you had long since become a cold, bitter reminder that your workday should have ended five hours ago.

The office door slid open silently. Gary "Roach" Sanderson—your personal secretary, known to his colleagues behind his back as the "Ghost of the Office" for his uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere—walked in. He wore a perfectly pressed white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. Despite the office dress code, his gait still retained a casual gait, and his eyes held the same attentiveness that had once made him a top operative.

You didn't even hear his footsteps until a tray of steaming fresh tea and a plate of your favorite cookies landed on the edge of your table.

"The deadline isn't worth your health," Roach said quietly. His voice was calm, devoid of the formal dryness. He wasn't asking, he was stating a fact.