The glass conference room on the top floor of Vance Tower felt like an arena.
Outside, the midday sun beat down on the city. Inside, Alexander sat at the head of the dark marble table, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Clara sat right at his right hand, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that matched his sharp presence.
The heavy glass door clicked open.
Marcus escorted a man into the room. The visitor was in his late thirties, dressed in a flawless tailored grey suit. He moved with quiet, dangerous elegance. His dark hair was styled back, and a calm, confident smile played on his lips.
"Mr. Vance," the man spoke, his voice bearing a smooth European accent as he offered a polite bow. "Mrs. Vance," I am Julian Ross, senior envoy for the High Council."
Alexander didn't stand up, no
