Victor leaned back on the balcony chair, the crunch of his apple echoing as he scrolled through the morning's financial reports. The city lights mirrored his mood calm but weary.
"Are you even listening, Victor?" Anna's voice came from inside.
He smiled . "I'm listening, Anna. I promise."
"Then take your feet off the table," she snapped, passing by with a towel over her shoulder. "You're not a street kid anymore."
"Corporate man," he muttered to himself.
His phone buzzed. Carl.
Victor answered, moving to the balcony's edge. "It's late."
"Just checking in," Carl replied, his tone sarcastic. "How's the golden boy life?"
"Being Conrad's pet project is fantastic. Five-star meals, fake smiles, and the occasional moral crisis."
"Still biting the hand that feeds you."
"Just keeping my teeth sharp."
Carl's laugh softened. "How's it looking with Conrad?"
