The glass-paneled double doors of the Mercer Group’s executive boardroom overlooked the entire glittering skyline of the city, but inside, the atmosphere was suffocating, thick with greed and quiet conspiracy.
Eleanor Mercer sat at the head of the massive polished mahogany table, a smug, victorious smile playing on her lips. She was draped in expensive diamonds, her posture exuding the arrogance of a woman who believed she had successfully buried her sins. Beside her sat her daughter, Olivia, who was nervously tapping her manicured nails against a tablet. Gathered around the table were the primary board members and shareholders, along with a middle-aged man in a sharp lab coat—Eleanor’s hand-picked medical pawn.
"As you all know," Eleanor began, her voice dripping with fake, theatrica
