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Chapter Eighty-Two: The Clock

作者: Caroline
last update 公開日: 2026-07-27 22:42:56

The temperature in the executive boardroom on the seventy-fourth floor was kept at a strict sixty-five degrees. It was a cold, sterile box of polished mahogany, floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass, and heavy leather chairs that smelled faintly of expensive oils and old money. Outside, Manhattan was a blurred canvas of slate-gray clouds and low-hanging fog, the city below reduced to a muted, distant hum.

Elias sat at the long conference table, his back rigid, his tailored jacket unbuttoned. His ha
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  • Wrecked by my enemy    Chapter Eighty-Two: The Clock

    The temperature in the executive boardroom on the seventy-fourth floor was kept at a strict sixty-five degrees. It was a cold, sterile box of polished mahogany, floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass, and heavy leather chairs that smelled faintly of expensive oils and old money. Outside, Manhattan was a blurred canvas of slate-gray clouds and low-hanging fog, the city below reduced to a muted, distant hum.Elias sat at the long conference table, his back rigid, his tailored jacket unbuttoned. His hands rested flat on the cool leather blotter in front of him. Beneath the table, his right thigh was tense, every nerve ending in his body fired up and raw.He hadn't slept. The ghost of the red laser dot painted on his chest from the courtyard attack still felt like a physical burn against his skin. Every shadow in the corner of the boardroom looked like a threat; every creak of the floorboards sounded like the approach of an executioner.Across the table sat the board of directors—twelve men an

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    The silk felt like a confession.Elias stood in his dressing room, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the sterile chill of the air conditioning. Laid out on the velvet-topped island was his tuxedo—a custom-tailored masterpiece in midnight navy—and beside it, the tie Damien had de

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    The boardrooms of the Hawthorne Group were designed to make people feel small. High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the jagged teeth of the Manhattan skyline, and a table made of a single slab of obsidian that seemed to swallow the light. It was a space built for dominance, for the c

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    The fifty-first floor of the Hawthorne Tower was a cathedral of glass, steel, and hushed voices. It was a sterile, architectural marvel where silence operated as a high-value currency, and every heavy footstep on the polished Italian marble echoed like a gavel hitting a block. Normally, Elias moved

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    The fifty-first floor of the Hawthorne Tower was quiet, but it was the silence of a pressure cooker seconds before the seal fractures. Elias sat at the head of the massive, polished walnut conference table, his fingers curled tightly over the edge of the wood. The room was flooded with the harsh, c

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