fre

o feel. I watch from behind the glass, hands shoved in my pockets, face unreada

ack marble, brushed steel, matte glass. It's su

high up-tiny, fast, pointless. My reflection stares back at me, faint in the morning l

ien

ded not to answer because it doesn't

, voice clipped, respectful. "D

back on the wind

request.

cause, technically, she does. Forty-nine perc

in a perfect twist. Not a single thread out of p

s surprised at the word. It's too

." I no

the other. "You're still not furnishing this

e it q

ean li

ng her fingers move over her leather bag. Her nails are

s after a beat. Her tone doesn't r

been

busy when you w

s the sim

g you here," I shot ba

a this Saturday. we're going to host old rich fa

not g

are g

n her voice. Just a

I don't have time for parties. I've

aries in Switzerland but not to show your face

tyle fund

nt. But don't be naïve. You might run the operations, b

ubbles up. I swallow it. Tas

gain,"

ild an empire. I let you. But never forget-this glass tower? It rests on my mone

when I ask you to show up and play

hold it all in, the silence is heavy, tight

none of this matters. But I don't and I can't try it, Because deep down

ow she always gets under my skin,

force the words ou

ies and Disruptive AI. They're planning to set up a base her

gy. Just smooth and effortless, like always. "Of course," she says, her voice calm, almost sweet. "But you'

like my pain is a selling point. Like everything I went t

th a small smile, like it's some kind of compliment. And maybe it i

y. "I'm not tortured," I say, trying to

iet. Her voice doesn't r

soft but sharp

he was cruel. But because she meant it. Because maybe... it's true. And that

line. Her words stick to the

ack Armani. It makes you

erous," I

the front of her coat. "But ch

. She shuts the door behind her with a so

at the insid

ery sleepless night trying to outmaneuver the men she put in place to wa

in the soft morning ligh

lik

s against my skin. It's strange-almost soothing. Like it quiets e

*

urs

each eyes. Suits tailored to hide weapons-legal, financial

do

in a calm, flat voice. It's all an act. They don't want a real person-they want a

nne's

dow even when

it doesn't

he whole thing down. Just... torch it. No more glass walls, no mor

sil

ee

hing

m built for this-slick smiles,

ally c

*

n my o

nvitation Vivienne left on my desk. Thic

of mani

or personal message. Just an add

even smoke anymore, but the b

r, years ago. I was younger. Thought

and on my shoul

ove if you squi

an back, and let the smoke

way because s

. I'll stop

his glass tower