It was early in the morning, and the mansion was cloaked in a quiet stillness, the kind that settles just before the day begins to stir.
In the living room, logan sitting by the tall window, the early light drawing sharp lines across his jaw.
He had a phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and measured as he spoke.
"Logan, I will send you the flash drive. Everything is inside," the voice on the other end said, calm but urgent.
Logan, who was seated on a wide leather couch with one leg crossed, leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
His fingers tapped against the armrest, slow and calculating.
"Are you sure it can destroy Lewis and his company completely? To the very last step?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"Yes. And trust me—you'll praise me when you see it."
A cold smile played across Logan's face. His eyes, dark with quiet malice, gleamed at the thought of Lewis finally crumbling.
