Another week of grueling production had passed, and the salt-air humidity of Riverport seemed to hang even heavier over the Riverport Film Studios.
Ethan Gray stepped into the executive elevator, his mind preoccupied with the final edits of the "Burial of Flowers" sequence. He didn't notice the other occupant until the doors began to slide shut. Ivan Kingsley was standing in the corner, his tailored suit pristine, his reflection in the polished brass panels looking like a man who owned the city.
Ivan didn't offer a greeting. He didn't even look in Ethan’s direction. He simply stared straight ahead, his jaw set in a line of ice-cold arrogance. It was as if Ethan were a ghost, an invisible stain on the corporate tapestry.
Ethan didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. He offered a
