What the Animals Know

The retirement party for Barrett Industries' CEO had that familiar metallic taste of expensive champagne and forced laughter. Elena stood near the balcony, her third drink in hand, watching the man who'd spent three decades destroying marriages—including hers—accept a golden watch.

"They say he's like a old bull," Sarah whispered, appearing beside her. "All roar, no rampage anymore. Just grazing on his legacy."

Elena almost smiled. Richard had indeed been a bull in the boardroom—charging, relentless, impossible to redirect without getting trampled. She'd seen him destroy careers with a single metaphorical horn thrust. Her own promotion to VP had cost her six years of therapy and a husband who couldn't compete with the hours she gave to the beast.

"And Mark?" Elena asked, though she knew the answer.

Sarah's expression tightened. "Oh, Mark's a fox. Always has been." The junior VP's promotion last week had come with Richard's personal recommendation and, Elena had noticed, a sudden closeness with Richard's executive assistant. "Smart, adaptable. Knows exactly which henhouse to raid when no one's watching."

Elena set her glass down on a tray. Her phone buzzed—David, her ex, asking if he could pick up their daughter early tomorrow. He'd been like a loyal dog through their marriage: faithful, obedient, increasingly confused as she drifted away, drawn by the promise of power she'd never actually achieved.

She should have stayed. Dogs made terrible partners in ambition but excellent companions in life.

"You leaving?" Sarah called as Elena moved toward the elevators.

"Just getting some air."

Outside, the city lights blurred. At 47, with the corner office she'd sacrificed everything for finally hers, Elena understood what no one had told her about climbing to the top: the view was better, but the air was thinner up here. The bull, the fox, the dog—they all survived in their own ways. But the ones who thrived? They were the ones who knew which animal to be, and when.

She pulled out her phone and texted David back: *Yes. And coffee Sunday?*

Sometimes even a wolf needed to learn new tricks.