A late-night call

A late-night call
The phone rang somewhere beyond the edge of Catherine's sleep. She reached for it before it could wake Erik. An unfamiliar international number lit the screen.

2:03 a.m.

She slipped quietly from the bedroom and answered just before the call went to voicemail.

“Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Catherine?”

She recognized the voice immediately.

“Juliano? It’s two in the morning.”

The silence that followed lasted only a second, but it was long enough for her to become aware of her surroundings. The darkened apartment. The cold floor beneath her bare feet. The city lights slipping through the windows in pale reflections.

“My apologies,” he said. “I seem to have misjudged the time difference.”

She leaned against the back of the sofa and looked toward the bedroom. The door remained open, though Erik was hidden from view.

“What time is it in Milan?”

“Just after eight.”

Catherine closed her eyes for a moment. Of course it was morning there. Juliano was probably already in his office, dressed for the day, while she stood in Erik’s living room wearing an old T-shirt and trying to remember how conversations worked.

“What happened?”

“I received confirmation regarding the Marseille expansion.”

That woke her more effectively than the ringing phone had. She straightened.

“What confirmation?”

“The regional board approved the revised distribution agreement. Hamilton Logistics will be able to begin the first phase next month.”

Catherine's sleep disappeared beneath a rush of calculations. Weeks of delays had already forced Revenir to adjust its European rollout.

“You’re certain?”

“I rarely make calls at two in the morning to share uncertain information.”

There was something almost amused in his voice.

“You didn’t know it was two in the morning.”

“Apparently, I am capable of one mistake before breakfast.”

Catherine smiled despite herself, then immediately wondered why he had called her personally. The information mattered. It would affect staffing, timelines, and the projections she had reviewed only yesterday. Still, it could have been sent in an email. Moretti Capital had an entire team responsible for communicating developments like this.

“When was it approved?”

“Late yesterday afternoon. I received the final documents this morning.”

“And Hamilton?”

“They will be informed within the hour. I thought you should know first.”

Catherine walked to the window and looked out over Manhattan. The city still moved beneath her despite the hour.

“Thank you,” she said. “This changes a lot for us.”

“I assumed it would.”

He was silent for a moment before continuing.

“How are you handling the attention?”

Catherine glanced back toward the bedroom.

“What attention?”

"Your communications team is going to have a busy morning."

She let out a quiet breath.

“I can handle it.”

Juliano laughed softly.

“The photograph changed things,” he said.

“It brought people to Revenir who might not have noticed us otherwise.”

“And people who are interested in you for reasons that have very little to do with Revenir.”

Catherine rested one hand against the glass. The surface was cool beneath her palm.

“That comes with visibility.”

“You say that as though visibility is something that happens to a company instead of the person leading it.”

She looked down at the street again. Over the past week, journalists had dissected every part of her public life while investors who had ignored Revenir months earlier were suddenly requesting meetings. She understood the value of the attention. She also understood its cost.

“I’ve spent years trying to make people look at the company,” she said. “It would be strange to complain now that they are.”

“I did not say you were complaining.”

“No. You were waiting for me to admit that I dislike it.”

“I was curious whether you would.”

Catherine smiled again.

“You’re very persistent.”

“I prefer observant.”

“Those are not always different things.”

Another pause followed.

“You thanked your team first,” he said.

Catherine frowned.

“When?”

“At the summit. After the interview requests began arriving. Everyone around you was discussing what the attention could do for your position. You were asking whether your staff had eaten.”
She remembered the moment only vaguely. The summit had become a blur of conversations, introductions, and cameras.

“They had been working all day.”

“That is precisely my point.”

She shifted her weight against the window.

“What point are you making?”

"Most people reveal themselves when things go wrong. You reveal yourself when they go right."

The remark should have sounded calculated. Coming from Juliano, most compliments did. He understood how words affected people and rarely wasted them. This one felt different. Catherine looked toward the bedroom once more. Erik had not appeared, but the apartment no longer felt as quiet as it had a few minutes earlier.

“You called to tell me about Marseille,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And now you’re analyzing my behavior at conferences.”

“I am capable of discussing two subjects in one conversation.”

“At two in the morning?”

“In my defense, it is a very reasonable hour here.”

“For you.”

“That is becoming increasingly clear.”

She laughed under her breath. Juliano fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice had changed slightly. The warmth remained, though the amusement had faded.

“I should let you return to sleep.”

“Yes, you should.”

“Catherine?”

She waited.

"Congratulations. Marseille is your achievement. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

The words caught her off guard.

“Thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good morning.”

He ended the call before she could say anything else. As she returned to the bedroom, one thought followed her into the darkness. Juliano Moretti managed companies across multiple continents. Men like him didn't forget time zones. He knew exactly what time it was in New York.

Juliano placed his phone on the desk and looked through the windows of his Milan office. The city had only begun to wake. Morning light stretched across the rooftops, and the first members of his staff would arrive within minutes. His schedule was already full. Three meetings, a board review, and a call with Singapore before lunch.

The Marseille documents lay open on his desk. They could have waited. An email would have been sufficient. His assistant could have called Revenir later that morning.

Juliano picked up his coffee, though it had already gone cold. For years, every decision he made had served a purpose. The business call had been real. The timing had not.