The chaotic street outside Linfield Biotechnology Co., Ltd. had transformed into a surreal stage of high-stakes reconciliation and absolute ruin. The humid mid-day air, thick with the scent of ozone and hot pavement, felt heavy as Dominic Mylod turned his gaze away from the broken figure of Nick Maher. The once-arrogant heir was now a hollow shell, his rhythmic self-punishment a macabre percussion against the silence of the gathered crowd.
Dominic reached out, his hand resting gently on his wife's shoulder. "Sienna," he said, his voice returning to the calm, steady baritone she had known for years, devoid of the lethal edge that had just dismantled an underworld empire. "It’s time to leave. Let’s head home."
Sienna Flynn blinked, her breath catching in her throat. The world felt tilted.
