The morning sun felt almost oppressive as I walked through the restoration project site, trying to maintain the appearance of normal operational oversight while my mind raced through increasingly paranoid scenarios about who had been listening to our conversation the previous night.
I didn't know who had heard us. That was the worst part – the uncertainty, the not knowing whether our sensitive discussion about Gabriel's proposal, the World President's identity, and my potential willingness to assist a criminal organization had been compromised by the wrong ears.
Ideally, they had heard nothing at all. Maybe the person outside the room had arrived late, had only caught the tail end of our conversation when we were discussing less sensitive topics. Maybe they hadn't understood the context of what they were hearing, or had dismissed it as theoretical discussion rather than genuine consideration of illegal cooperation.
But that was naive thinking, and I knew it.
