The streets pulsed with the relentless rhythm of commerce, a jungle of glass and steel where fortunes were made and lost before lunch. Towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, their mirrored surfaces reflecting the ceaseless movement below—chauffeur-driven black cars, designer-clad executives, and the ever-present hum of ambition. The scent of freshly brewed espresso and cold, hard cash lingered in the air, mingling with the distant honks of impatient drivers.
For Valentino and the rest of the city's elite, this world was just an extension of their empire—luxury townhouses, penthouses with panoramic views, and addresses that carried weight in hushed conversations. Money wasn't just a necessity; it was the air they breathed.
But my life was far from that.
My sanctuary was a modest studio apartment, tucked away in a quieter, less ostentatious part of the district. It was just a small, bare-bones space with a single window that gave a decent view of the city. At five grand a month, it was a far cry from Valentino's half-a-million-dollar penthouses, yet it was mine.
A space untouched by excess, where I could exist beyond the shadows of power plays and bloodstained deals. It was perfect for someone like me, caught between worlds, living a life that was a mix of shadows and blinding daylight. A place where, for a few stolen hours, I could pretend I was just another regular person trying to carve out a life in a city that belonged to people like him.
I hadn't set foot here in months. Not since I severed ties with the past, burying everything beneath layers of careful distance. But after yesterday's chaos, I had no choice. There were files I needed—documents that tethered me to a life I had sworn to leave behind. A life I couldn't afford to return to.
