The late-autumn rain glinted like scattered diamonds against the blackened steel and mirrored glass of Midtown Manhattan. Below the heavy overcast sky, Avenue of the Americas thrummed with its relentless, historic pulse—yellow taxis weaving through wet asphalt, pedestrian umbrellas creating a moving canopy, and street vents belching thick clouds of white steam into the crisp November air.
Seventy stories above the street level sat the glass-enclosed crown of Sixty-Six Rockefeller Plaza—Nemesis Capital’s absolute headquarters and operational heartland. Though our presence spanned every major continent, this was where the journey had begun. The Manhattan tower was an architectural statement of uncompromising power: soaring ceilings of vein-cut Italian travertine, smoked glass partitions, an
