~Damien~
The morning began like any other. Efficient, predictable, boring, and cold. Every minute was accounted for. Every moment planned.
My coffee, black, as always, sat untouched on the counter behind me.
My assistant, a sharp and unflappable woman named Elise, stood silently nearby, tablet in hand. She waited for my signal, her posture as rigid and disciplined as a soldier’s.
I adjusted the cuffs of my handmade Italian suit, and took a final glance in the mirror. Impeccable, as always. My reflection stared at me and I was pleased with what I saw. Maybe I should really raise my designer's stipend. He's been out doing himself these days.
“Elise,” I called out, my voice carrying easily through the space.
She appeared almost instantly, tablet in hand, as efficient and composed as
