Alex POV
The neon-drenched streets of New York pulsed beneath a darkening sky as I stepped out of Lane International's headquarters. The city's familiar chaos wrapped around me like a well-worn blanket—a symphony of honking horns, chattering crowds, and the distant rumble of trams. I paused, letting the cool evening air wash over my face, carrying with it the mingled scents of street food and salt breeze from the harbor.
My Louboutins clicked against the pavement, each step a quiet reminder of how far I'd come from the wide-eyed teenager who first arrived in this city. Richard, my driver of five years, stood beside the gleaming black Mercedes, his weathered face creasing into a familiar smile.
"Miss Lane," he greeted, his voice carrying the warmth of a father figure rather than an employee. His silver-streaked hair caught the glow of the street lights as he opened the door.
"Thank you, Richard." I slipped into the leather sanctuary of the backseat, finally allowing my shoulders to dro
