Night cloaked the city in glass and silver while the upper floors of Victor Graves Tower remained illuminated above the sleeping streets, and from a distance the building resembled a polished monument to success, wealth, and modern ambition. Few people understood how much influence moved quietly through those offices after midnight. Fewer still understood how many futures were bought, redirected, or destroyed beneath that shining exterior.
Victor Graves stood alone before a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city skyline while one hand rested lightly against a crystal glass filled with untouched whiskey, and the reflection staring back at him appeared calm enough to inspire confidence in investors and governments alike. He wore success effortlessly. He wore respectability convincingly. Yet behind that carefully maintained image lived a man who believed every system could be controlled if one possessed enough patience and enough resources.
