The Thursday night skyline was a blur of static and rain. Inside the fortieth-floor office, the only light came from the massive monitors on Damon's desk and the soft glow of the city below.
It was 9:00 PM. The cleaning crews had already passed through the lower floors. The building was empty, save for the security detail in the lobby and the two men in the CEO's office.
Damon sat in his leather chair, a headset over one ear. He looked exhausted but focused.
"I understand the delay in customs, Mr. Chen," Damon said into the microphone, his voice steady. "But a forty-eight-hour hold on perishable goods is unacceptable. We need to expedite the clearance."
On the screen, a grid of faces from the Shanghai logistics team nodded solemnly.
Leo was in the room, supposedly organizing the bookshelf on the far wall. But he wasn't organizing. He was watching.
