ELENA’S POV
I stepped out of the car and adjusted my bag on my shoulder, my eyes sweeping over the towering structure in front of me. The building was massive, a testament to power and ambition, its glass facade reflecting the morning sun. Justin’s secretary had sent me a message earlier: “Report to Mr Justin’s office immediately.”
What could possibly be wrong?
Josh, Noah’s driver, gave me a curt nod before pulling away, leaving me standing there with my thoughts swirling like a storm. I entered the building. Inside, it was a symphony of movement—workers rushing past, their faces a blur of purpose, phones ringing in a constant rhythm, and the faint hum of machinery in the background. The air smelled of coffee and polished wood, mingled with the faint tang of disinfectant.
Pulling out
