The fiftieth floor of the Valen Group building that night was enveloped in a suffocating silence. The thick, floor-to-ceiling glass reflected the sparkling lights of Manhattan below, but the atmosphere inside the main study felt as cold as ice.
Valera stood near the glass desk, her fingers staring at the internal audit files that had just been tidied up. Across the room, Garrick stood with his back to her, staring toward the city skyline with a phone pressed to his ear. The man's tone of voice was low, measured, yet packed with a dominance that allowed no room for error from his subordinates.
"All of Victor's logistics supply lines have been cut. Ensure the legal team finalizes the asset seizure documents before dawn," Garrick said coldly. He ended the call, then turned to face Valera.
