"The chief of police enters the room pale-faced, reporting that digital evidence points directly to Rafael's industrial conglomerate," the panicked voice of the junior advisor echoed through the open comms feed in the penthouse study.
Rafael listened to the distant panic with absolute indifference, his fingers resting casually on the polished mahogany surface of his desk.
Zhea stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the live surveillance monitors displaying the sprawling avenue outside their corporate headquarters.
"They did not waste any time acting on the chief's warning," Zhea noted, her voice carrying a sharp edge of cold amusement.
"Desperate men always run blindly toward their own execution," Rafael replied smoothly, standing up to adjust the lapels of his dark charcoal suit.
