Rory
The Sterling Enterprises lobby was the kind of room that made you feel underdressed no matter what you were wearing, and I'd spent an hour that morning making sure my blazer fit exactly right, which suddenly felt like nowhere near enough armor against a space built entirely out of glass and marble and quiet, deliberate intimidation.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched three stories up, flooding the lobby with a cold, even light that made everyone standing in it look slightly more scrutinized than they probably wanted to. A fountain occupied the center of the space, subtle and expensive in the specific way that only truly expensive things ever managed to look understated. Somewhere above me, an entire building's worth of the family's carefully curated power hummed along on schedules a
