One Vanderbilt, the tallest residential tower in the Western Hemisphere.
The private express elevator to the penthouse is a glass capsule on the outside of the building, nothing but transparent walls and a 1,400-foot drop to the street.
I am naked, invisible, and standing inside it the moment the doors close.
Elias Voss, 38, billionaire tech god, is alone, still in his tailored midnight-blue suit, tie loosened, phone in hand.
He thinks he’s going straight to his 110th-floor penthouse after a late board meeting.
He’s wrong.
The elevator starts its silent ascent.
I step behind him, press my entire body to his back, and drag my invisible nails down the front of his shirt, popping every button in one slow, deliberate pull.
He freezes, phone slipping from his fingers, clattering to the
