WOLFE'S TOWER LOBBY – EARLY MORNING
Two days after Clara Wolfe's memorial service. Early morning. Marble floors, spotless glass, art in the lobby. Cold and immaculate — like the man at the top.
It's just past 6 a.m. The office building is mostly empty. AMY, a timid cleaning woman in her 50s, wipes down the brass railing with care. Her hands are red from bleach.
At the reception desk, GEORGE, a soft-spoken middle-aged gatekeeper, reads a newspaper and sips from a thermos. He adjusts his tie when the glass doors hiss open.
Adrian Wolfe storms in — trench coat unbuttoned, face tight, sleep-deprived. He doesn't walk. He charges.
Amy notices him and immediately straightens up, shrinking as he approaches.
George stands immediately, "Good morning, Mr. Wolfe. Again… I'm truly sorry about your mother."
Adrian doesn't acknowledge him. Instead, his eyes flick to Amy, scrubbing a fingerprint on the elevator's gold panel.
Coldly, loud enough to echo "This place looks like a public subway."
Amy freezes cloth in hand. George frowns, uneasy.
"I'm just about finished, sir. I always—"
Adrian interrupts, "Is that what you call clean? That fingerprint's been there since yesterday. If this is your standard, maybe we should outsource to actual professionals."
Amy stammers, face flushing red. George steps forward, clearing his throat gently.
"Sir, Amy's been with the company thirteen years. She's—"
Adrian snaps, "Exactly. Thirteen years and still no idea what excellence looks like?"
His voice echoes across the marble lobby like a whip. George stiffens but holds his ground.
GEORGE said firmly but respectful "Sir, I think perhaps it's been a difficult week. No one here meant offense."
Adrian walks closer. Tense. Eyes sharp as knives.
"My mother used to work these kinds of jobs. She'd wake at 4 a.m. and still show up with pride. No excuses. If she were alive and saw this—she'd be disgusted."
Amy lowers her eyes, quietly wiping away a tear. George says nothing now — jaw locked, staring ahead like a soldier waiting for a storm to pass.
Adrian turns away — not with resolution, but with fury boiling over.
He enters the elevator. Doors close behind him.
WOLFE TOWER – ADRIAN'S OFFICE – 47TH FLOOR
He throws his coat on the chair. Pour a drink. Sits in silence.His mother's photo is still on his desk. Calm. Soft. Graceful.
"You raised me better than this."
He picks up the photo frame and gently sets it face-down. Darkness seeps into the edges of the screen.
Adrian is seated behind his desk, stone-faced, staring at his phone. A missed call. A voice message. The screen reads: CASSANDRA ❤.
He taps the message. Her voice plays, sultry, controlled — with just enough remorse to sound rehearsed.
"Darling, I know I was out of line. I shouldn't have said those things. I was scared. Of losing you. Of seeing you so broken. Please... call me back. Let me come to you."
He closes his eyes. For a moment, he's still. Then deletes the message.
Knock knock.
It was the EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT
"Sir, she's here. Cassandra. She's—she's downstairs and—she's not waiting for clearance." Adrian's eyes snap open.
CASSANDRA strides in like she owns the building. Long white coat, stilettos clicking across the floor, lipstick as sharp as her tone.
Receptionist ELLE stands to intercept her, visibly tense.
"Ms. Cassandra Layes, you weren't cleared—"
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm not a client. I'm Adrian's personal priority. Step aside."
She swishes past. Elle bites her lip but doesn't fight it. A young male intern watching nearby mutters, "Yikes."
Two junior staff members whisper as Cassandra storms past. One drops a file. She kicks it aside with her heel.
"If your hands worked as fast as your mouths, this place might actually run." She smirked.
She doesn't knock. She throws the door open.Adrian looks up, jaw tightening. He says nothing.
"Don't be mad. I couldn't stay away." She said softly.
She walks toward him slowly, carefully. Unlike the chaos she left behind, here she is velvet and perfume.
She continued. "I miss you. I hate sleeping in that bed without you. I hate myself for what I said. I was cruel." Adrian stands. Stiff. Watching her.
"You humiliated me. You disrespected my mother's memory. Then you walked into my building like it's a runway."
She steps closer.
"I did. And I'm sorry. But Adrian… don't pretend you don't need me."
A long pause. The anger lingers. Then softens.
Adrian closes the distance. He exhales, slowly. One hand gently brushes her cheek. He hates himself for it.
"You tear me apart." He said quietly
"You'd fall apart without me." She whispered.
They kiss. Brief. Passionate. Toxic.
WOLFE TOWER – HALLWAY OUTSIDE – MOMENTS LATER
Staff freezes as Cassandra struts back out, victorious, clutching Adrian's lapel coat over her shoulder. A young employee, LISA, accidentally bumps her shoulder while passing.
"Watch it, you bloody goat-footed intern." She snapped.
Lisa stammers an apology. Cassandra smirks and winks at the HR director who saw the whole thing. Then disappears into the elevator like royalty.
Adrian watches her go from the window. He says nothing. Just runs a hand through his hair, regret already crawling over his spine.
Then he whispered to himself "Loving her… is like drowning in silk."