The doors of the private glass elevator slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, sealing the group into a silent, ascending chamber.
As the lift began its rapid climb toward the 88th floor of the Zenith Complex, the city below began to shrink into a tapestry of blurred neon. Emilia gripped the handrail, her chest tight with a mix of dread and hope.
She glanced at Dante; he was leaning casually against the back wall, his hands in his pockets, watching the floor indicator with a faint, teasing smile.
"You look like you're heading to a sentencing, Emilia," Dante murmured, his voice low enough to stay between them. "Relax. I told you, I’ve handled everything."
Beside them, Adrian stood with his arms crossed, his jaw working in a rhythmic pulse of agitation. Aunt Bethany was vibrating with a diff
