The sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided effortlessly through the streets of downtown Chicago, its polished exterior reflecting the towering skyscrapers that lined the city. Inside, the atmosphere was calm. Roman Blackwood sat in the rear passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other, a dark pair of eyeglasses on, scrolling through a presentation on the tablet resting on his lap. He looked different now. A year had changed him. His dark hair was shorter than before, his jaw cleaner, sharper. The softness that had once lingered around his eyes had disappeared, replaced by quiet confidence and an authority that came naturally to him now. Across from him sat his executive assistant, Olivia, an organised woman in her early thirties with a tablet balanced neatly on her knees. She adjusted her glasses before glancing at the day's schedule. "You have the investors' meeting at nine thirty," she began. "The board review at eleven. Lunch with the Morgan Group at one. Then the hote
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