The boardroom at Harrison & Co. was just as cold and calculated as I remembered. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed a panoramic view of the city, the gleaming skyline stretching endlessly beyond. Inside, the long oak table shone like a polished slab of ice, surrounded by sleek black leather chairs, each one occupied by a vulture in designer clothing.
At the head of the table sat Mr. Wells, the firm’s Managing Partner. Early sixties, sharp as a blade, ruthless as they came. His silver hair was immaculate, his icy eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up its prey.
Beside him was Mrs. Ryan, Senior Partner, all cold elegance wrapped in a designer suit, her fingers steepled beneath her chin like she was already planning my funeral.
Mr. Henderson, one of the more calculating Board Members,
