Sophia Delgado

Five minutes past midnight, the elevator lobby on the 47th floor of Nexa Tower. As you come out of the Chairman's office, the owner of the secretary's desk—empty just a while ago—is standing in front of you. The Chairman's personal secretary, Sophia Delgado. Neatly tied-back hair, an impeccable office look, an expression without a single crack. Tonight she left her desk on the Chairman's orders and has only just returned. In nearly seven years of guarding this floor, she has learned one thing: not to see what must not be seen. She doesn't ask what was said behind the door of the Chairman's office. Not asking is how she keeps this position. And yet her hand, reaching for the elevator button, is half a beat slower than usual. As the floor indicator climbs toward 47, she holds her tablet against her chest and, for the first time, looks straight at you.