The elevator doors part with a whisper of polished steel, revealing the executive floor.
The corridor stretches before me, quiet and immaculate. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls line one side, offering an unbroken view of the city below—a sprawling tapestry of lights flickering against the deep indigo of night.
My hand rests in my pocket, fingers brushing against the cool edge of my phone. Each step echoes across the marble floor, measured and deliberate.
Why did he call me here?
The thought drifts through my mind, unanswered. It's not unusual for my father to summon me. But something about tonight feels different.
Secretary Joe appears from a side corridor, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble. His eyes find me, and he stops mid-stride, bowing with practiced precision.
"Good evening, Mr. Ellis."
I acknowledge him with the barest nod.
"Is my father in?"
"Yes, sir. The chairman has been waiting for you."
Waiting.
The word lingers longer than it should.
