The glass tower loomed above him like an accusation. Every mirrored panel reflected Brandon’s face back at him—smaller, thinner, stripped of the arrogance that once carried him through those revolving doors without hesitation. Now, even his reflection looked like it didn’t belong.
He adjusted the collar of his rain-damp shirt, ignoring the security guard’s curious glance. The Hughes Corporation logo glared down from the marble wall behind the reception desk. The same gold lettering that once meant legacy now felt like a curse.
“Mr. Hughes,” the receptionist said carefully, voice brittle with uncertainty. “He’s expecting you.”
Brandon didn’t reply. He simply nodded and took the elevator, the hum of its ascent crawling up his spine. Each floor that passed felt like a year of his life—year
