The opulent gleam of the Hotel lobby, a testament to wealth with its endless marble expanses and the soft caress of golden light, was utterly lost on Levi. His world had shrunk to a single, burning point of focus: the penthouse suite perched atop this monument to luxury, the temporary domain of Ken Stuart.
Each polished surface, each hushed conversation, each admiring glance from the staff was an irrelevant distraction. His purpose was singular, driven by a raw, untamed fury that churned in his gut.
