KILLIAN
I leaned back in my chair, watching the recent episode of the Linday’s destruction on my tablet with deep satisfaction.
I was in my private corner office—a space that was less of a workspace and more of a sprawling testament to absolute corporate power. The room was massive, defined by towering, seamless floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a sweeping, dizzying panoramic view of the city’s concrete empire below.
Every single feature inside the room screamed bespoke luxury, from the rare dark mahogany paneling and the plush velvet minimalist couches to the expensive, hand-carved obsidian desk I rested my elbows on.
My thumb lazily scrolled through the live digital feed. A smug, wicked grin slowly spread across my lips as the headlines updated in a continuous cascade of ruin.
