[Christian Castillo]
There are days when the world demands your blood, and there are days when it demands your name. Today, it demands both.
The office is too bright when I walk in — sterile white light spilling across polished marble floors and glass walls that feel like they’re watching me. Someone should have dimmed them. Someone should have known better. But everyone is too frantic to think straight. Every assistant I pass looks one breath away from hyperventilating. Papers shuffle. Phones ring. Low conversations break off the moment I’m near.
I step into my private suite and close the door behind me. Silence swallows everything except the faint hum of the city far below. I shrug out of my coat, toss it across the sofa, and drop into the leather chair facing the floor-to-ceiling wi
