The elevator doors hissed shut behind Lila, but the sound of her own heartbeat was louder, a frantic, jagged rhythm against her ribs. The lobby of Blackwood Emerald Tower, usually a bastion of marble and silent efficiency, now felt like a gilded tomb.
The man standing before the line of black SUVs didn’t look like a common thug. He looked like a high-end funeral director immaculate charcoal suit, silver hair swept back with military precision, and eyes that held the chilling neutrality of a shark.
"Miss Laurent," he repeated, his voice smooth as silk over gravel. "My name is Arthur Vance. I’ve served the Blackwood family for forty years. Mostly the elder Mr. Blackwood. If you’ll step into the vehicle, we can avoid a scene that would be… detrimental to everyone’s health."
Lila glanced to
