Bentley’s office had settled into its usual late-night quietude, save for the faint hum of soft music in the background—just a mellow rhythm, nothing too distracting, but enough to take the edge off the silence.
The desk lamp cast a dim, soft glow over the otherwise cool, minimalist interior of the office room. The faint scent of leather and polished wood hung in the air.
Bentley sat behind his desk, his laptop open in front of him, the screen displaying an array of charts and documents that blurred together in his tired mind.
He sighed quietly, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temple as he tried to refocus. His suit jacket, now draped over the back of his chair, had become too stifling to wear any longer.
He stood, stretching his long limbs and rolling his stiff shoulders. He f
