The pale New York sun hung low, its chill seeping through the towering windows of Haider’s luxury hotel suite, casting a sterile glow across the polished marble floors. The skyline beyond glittered with steel spires and endless possibility, a stark contrast to the jagged silence within, a space haunted by the echoes of arguments and unease. Crystal chandeliers dangled like frozen starlight, their prisms scattering muted winter light across cream-colored walls adorned with abstract art in muted golds and blues. A sleek ebony desk stood sentinel, its surface cluttered with leather-bound journals and a silver fountain pen, while a velvet navy sofa beckoned with deceptive comfort. The faint scent of sandalwood and citrus lingered, a ghost of opulence that did little to warm the cavernous room.
