Chapter 7

The heavy mahogany door to Victor Sterling’s office clicked shut, sealing Clara inside a room that smelled of old money, fresh espresso, and impending corporate bloodshed.

Victor was standing by the window, looking out over the Manhattan skyline. He didn’t turn around when she entered.

Chapter 8

The morning sun sliced through the blinds of Victor Sterling’s office, casting harsh, geometric shadows across his desk. Clara sat opposite him, fully dressed in a sharp, tailored navy suit. She looked like a woman preparing for an execution.

She set the sterile glass vial on the desk.

Chapter 9

The taxi ride from Victor’s office to the penthouse took twenty-two minutes. To Clara, it felt like twenty-two years.

She sat in the back seat, her knee bouncing frantically, staring at the GPS on her phone. Traffic on 5th Avenue was a crawling nightmare of yellow cabs and delivery truc