The car door closes behind me, and I take a moment to breathe in the morning air. It's different today—not the biting cold of the past weeks, but something softer.
The snow is melting under a pale sun, dripping from rooftops in steady, musical rhythms. Patches of white still cling to shadows, but the world is waking up, shedding its frozen coat.
My eyes drift upward, following the familiar lines of the Kael Holdings building. It rises against the pale sky like always—enormous, shining, perfect.
A monument to everything Zyren Kael built.
I take a deep breath, shove my hands in my pockets, and start walking.
The lobby greets me with its usual chorus.
"Good morning, sir."
Bows. Polite smiles.
But beneath the surface, something hums—an undercurrent of whispers, of sidelong glances, of conversations that pause and restart when I pass.
Staff are chatting in small clusters, their voices low but urgent.
