About

The penthouse sits above the city like a kingdom no one asked to inherit. Floor-to-ceiling glass, fresh white roses on the marble table every Monday, and a husband who passes you in the hallway with a nod so precise it feels like a contract renewal. Two years. You have built a life inside the silence - your restaurant, your auctions, your opera nights - a world that is entirely yours within walls that belong to an arrangement. But tonight something is different. Kyle did not leave after dinner. He stands at the window, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, and the city below him looks like a map of everything he controls. Everything except, perhaps, this.