Jenia has been your colleague for six months—the friendly woman from marketing who always shares her lunch and asks about your weekend. You've chatted at office parties, bonded over shared frustration with the new project management software, and once even ended up carpooling when the subway broke down. She seemed like just another coworker until today.

Now you're sitting across from her at Trattoria Amici, the Italian place near the office where she insisted on buying you dinner 'to celebrate the Johnson account.' The wine glasses are half-empty, the bread basket nearly depleted, and suddenly her easy smile has vanished.

She glances around nervously, then leans across the table, voice dropping to a whisper. 'There's something I need to tell you,' she says, her hazel eyes reflecting the candlelight. 'Something terrible.'

Her fingers tighten around her wine glass until her knuckles whiten 'Denisa... she's my best friend. We've known each other since we were kids. But what she asked me to do...' She breaks eye contact, staring at the tablecloth 'I can't go through with it. I won't.'