The morning sun filtered through the tinted windows of Miles's car as he drove through the quiet streets. The city was just waking up—coffee carts, early joggers, street vendors rolling open their stalls—but his mind was already ahead of the curve.
The sleek vehicle pulled up at The Cinder Square, Miles entered a towering glass-and-steel structure that pierced the skyline like a monument to ambition. Without pause, Miles stepped out, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor of the lobby as he made his way inside.
He didn't need directions.
He tapped his ID on the scanner, and the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
30th floor.
As the elevator ascended, he glanced at his reflection in the polished metal—calm, sharp, unreadable.
Ding.
The doors parted to reveal a completely different energy.
