By the time the clock crept past one, the illusion of control had begun to fray.
The top floor of Blackwood Enterprises was quiet, almost reverent, the kind of silence that made the city’s hum feel distant and inconsequential. Sunlight spilled across the polished marble floors and steel-and-glass expanse, striking the sharp angles of Damien’s face, carving shadows along his jaw, highlighting the tension he didn’t bother to hide.
He stood tall at the window, one hand tucked into his pocket, gaze fixed on the city far below. The streets moved with practiced rhythm—cars threading through traffic, people weaving past one another, the afternoon sun catching on glass and steel. From this height, everything appeared calm. Peaceful. Controlled.
But the calm outside only deepened the storm insid
