The Riddle We Never Asked

Elena stood before the bronze sphinx in the corporate lobby, its marble eyes inscrutable as ever. After thirty-two years at the firm, she'd learned that some riddles weren't meant to be solved—they were meant to be endured.

"You're bearish on the merger," Marcus said, appearing beside her. He was twenty-eight, with the kind of confidence that only came from never having fucked up catastrophically. "But you won't say why."

"I've borne witness to five of these," Elena replied, turning away from the statue. "Four collapsed. One survived, but the people who built it didn't."

Her phone buzzed. David. Again.

Last night's argument replayed in her mind: David calling her emotionally distant, her pointing out he'd been sleeping with his research assistant for six months. The revelation hadn't come from detective work—it came from watching his behavior change, watching him become someone else, like a cat adopting its owner's mannerisms after years of proximity.

"The partners want your endorsement," Marcus pressed. "Your legacy vote."

Legacy. The word sat heavy in the air. Elena had sacrificed her marriage, her friendships, two pregnancies she'd terminated because the timing wasn't right—all for this firm, for this corner office with its view of the city's financial district. Now they wanted her to bless the very destruction of everything she'd built.

"You know what the sphinx asked, Marcus?"

He blinked. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon—"

"Wrong riddle." She touched the bronze wing. "The real question is: What do you lose that you can never get back, no matter how much you pay?"

Outside, a woman walked a cat on a leash—orange tabby, indifferent to the leash's constraints. The animal moved how it wanted, the illusion of control just that: illusion.

"I'm not endorsing anything," Elena said. "I'm not taking meetings tomorrow. I'm not clearing out my desk."

"Then what—"

"I'm disappearing." She smiled, genuine for the first time in years. "Sometimes the only way to win the riddle is to stop playing."

As she walked toward the revolving doors, her phone buzzed again. This time, she turned it off and kept walking.