The morning mist rolling off the Blackwood harbor was thick and cold, swallowing the base of Vance-Vane Tower in a grey shroud while the golden executive penthouse remained pierced through the clouds. Inside the boardroom, the atmosphere was suffocatingly quiet. The scent of rain and wet asphalt drifted up through the ventilation shafts, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed espresso and the expensive Italian leather of the chairs.
Elena Vance sat at the head of the glass conference table, her fingers folded neatly over the polished surface. She wore a tailored charcoal-grey suit jacket over a silk camisole, the sharp lines of her collar matching the cold, unyielding expression on her face. Around her throat, the silver vulture collar caught the dim light of the overhead fixtures, a si
