Damian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the Holland penthouse, the city glowing beneath him like a lie dressed in lights.
His glass of whiskey rested untouched in his hand.
"Get me everything on Aurelia Creative House," he said without turning.
"Founders. Investors. Board members. Security. Staff. Every crack in the walls."
"Yes, sir," one of the men replied immediately.
"And Elena," Damian added, voice lower now."
The room went quiet.
One of the men hesitated. "Sir… should we approach her?"
Damian's reflection stared back at him from the glass. Cold. Unmoved.
"No."
He finally turned, eyes sharp enough to cut.
"If she sees me before I'm ready, she'll run."
He walked to the table and set the whiskey down hard.
"She thinks I'm dead," he said, almost to himself.
Another man stepped forward, placing a tablet on the table. "This is the first background report, sir. Aurelia Creative House is selective. They don't hire just anyone."
Damian skimmed the screen once.
