The lobby of Vane Industries was a tomb of glass and silence. Usually, by 8:00 AM, the air would be buzzing with the frantic energy of analysts and the hum of high-speed elevators. Today, it was stagnant.
I stepped through the security scanners, my heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. I wasn't wearing my usual professional navy today. I was wearing blood-red—a silk blouse and a skirt so sharp it could draw blood. Silas was a shadow at my shoulder, his presence so heavy it felt like he was physically warping the air around us. The security guard at the front desk didn't even ask for my ID. He just looked into Silas’s eyes and stepped back, his face turning an ashen gray.
"The board is in the private lounge," the guard stammered, his eyes darting toward the executive elevat
