The Wellness Executive

The fluorescent lights of the women's restroom hummed as Maya applied another coat of lipstick, her reflection staring back with eyes that held too much knowledge. At forty-two, she'd perfected the art of looking competent while her life quietly imploded.

The annual company retreat had seemed like a good idea when she'd planned it—corporate wellness, team building, vitamin shots for everyone. But now, standing outside the ballroom where a palm reader had been hired as "novelty entertainment," Maya felt the weight of everything she couldn't say.

"Your husband's vitamin company is being investigated, isn't it?"

Maya jumped. The palm reader—some older woman with eyes like polished obsidian—stood in the doorway, holding a small bottle of hand sanitizer.

"I don't know what you're talking about." But Maya's voice cracked.

"The supplements. The falsified studies. I saw it in his palm when he came through earlier." The woman's voice was gentle, almost sympathetic. "Short life line. Very short."

Maya's fingers curled into her own palm until the nails bit skin. Three years of covering for Richard. Three years of knowing those "miracle vitamins" were sugar pills with dangerous additives. Three years of buying hats—wide-brimmed, colorful, absurd hats—to hide from cameras while he accepted awards for fraud.

"Why tell me?" Maya whispered.

"Because your palm says you're about to make a choice." The older woman stepped closer, her perfume smelling of sage and something electric. "And the universe prefers witnesses who are willing to speak."

The ballroom door opened. Richard's laughter drifted out—charming, confident, utterly fake. He was probably showing someone his watch.

Maya looked at the woman, then at her own hand. The lines etched there. The choices she'd made. The ones she was about to make.

"My attorney's name is Elena Chen," Maya said, pulling out her phone. "She handles whistleblower cases."

The palm reader smiled, something ancient and knowing in her expression. "The vitamins were never the problem, Maya. The silence was."

As Maya typed Elena's number, she took off her hat—the ridiculous red fedora she'd bought in Palm Springs last month—and placed it on the counter. She wouldn't be hiding anymore.