The elevator doors slid open with their usual polished efficiency, but Dwayne's stride lacked its precision that morning. His suit was sharp as ever, but his tie was slightly loose, his collar not quite right. His movements were deliberate but slower, betraying the weight of the whiskey still humming through his blood. His sunglasses hid the faint shadows under his eyes, though anyone who looked closely might sense the fatigue lurking beneath his carefully composed exterior.
The Knight brothers had always been the subject of hushed conversations in the corridors of Empire Brands. Today, however, as Dwayne entered, the whispers carried a sharper edge. Employees exchanged glances when he passed, their eyes flicking nervously toward the closed set of his mouth. Something about him felt more dangerous than usual, as if the storm that lived behind his eyes was closer to the surface than ever.
