The vision shattered. Adrian blinked, and the labyrinth dissolved into smoke. He was back in the penthouse—but the city beyond was no longer his.
Skyscrapers flickered like candles in a storm. Screens across the skyline warped into symbols, contracts burned in their vaults, and towers groaned as though the steel itself was alive.
Adrian staggered to the fractured glass, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. "No. This is mine. My empire. They won't take it."
But the whispers rose into a roar, shaking the walls. Veyne Enterprises. Collapse. Collapse.
Elara stood beside him, her gown shimmering faintly in the dim light. Her voice trembled, but her eyes held sorrowful strength. "Adrian… they're not just consuming us. They're consuming the city. Your empire is their feast."
The chandelier trembled, crystals chiming like bells. Papers flew from the desk, scattering across the floor. Shadows surged, clawing at the walls, pressing closer.
Adrian's breath caught. He had built his empire on control, on bending rivals to his will. But now, the curse bent the city itself.
Outside, a tower crumbled, its steel shrieking as it fell. The streets below erupted in chaos—executives fleeing, citizens screaming, the city itself trembling under the weight of unseen hunger.
Elara's gaze held his. "You can't fight them with contracts. You can't fight them with wealth. The more you cling to control, the stronger they become."
Adrian braced himself, fury burning, but fear gnawed at the edges of his certainty. He had faced rivals, betrayals, collapses. But this—this was war against the unseen, consuming everything he had built.
And in the reflection, he saw himself—not the empire's ruler, not the man of control, but a figure fading into the faceless crowd, his towers collapsing around him.
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