Tyson Towers Novels & Stories

"Let's go take his money away." The ride down to the city center was fast, and soon the car stopped right outside the massive Sterling Holdings tower. It was a giant glass building that stretched high into the sky, sitting right at the top of the financial district. Killian didn't wait for his guards to open the door; he stepped out and immediately reached back to hold my hand, his grip warm and steadying.

he said. "Okay." "Don't do anything interesting without me." "We're going to the office." "I said what I said." He straightened, looked at Zeviar. Something passed between them, the shorthand kind. Then he was gone. The penthouse felt slightly different without him in it. It always does, Sky said simply. The Knight Group headquarters occupied forty-two floors of a glass tower on Park Avenue that announced itself without trying, the kind of building that existed because someone with enough vision and enough capital had decided it should, and the city had simply organized itself around the decision.

The transition to the penthouse lockdown was less of a relocation and more of a military occupation disguised as domestic bliss. By midnight, the top three floors of the Vane tower had been entirely severed from the rest of the skyscraper’s grid. The private elevator bay now required a three-tier biometric scan, the glass perimeter was reinforced with ballistic tinting, and an entire wing had been converted into a state-of-the-art medical suite, complete with its own backup generators and a rotating staff of unbribable obstetricians.

The absolute confidence radiating off him was staggering. “CEO of what?” I asked, my voice steady despite the cold. Julian didn’t answer with words. He simply smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his mouth, and tilted his head upward. I followed his gaze. We were standing at the base of a monolithic, seventy-story skyscraper made of dark, reflective glass and steel. It was a fortress of modern architecture, slicing into the gray Manhattan sky like a blade. At the very top, glowing in stark, silver lettering through the rain, was a single word.

There is no doubt that there's more than enough room to build a life here. Even with all this space, I was surprised to discover Theo's penthouse occupies the entire top two floors of the building, making it nearly twice as large as mine. We're just five floors apart. This is all part of Uncle Greg's deliberate arrangement to keep us within reach in this sprawling capital. The tower itself soars 62 stories high. Its sleek glass and steel facade reflects the changing hues of the sky from dawn to dusk. My unit sits on the 55th floor, where the air feels crisp and quiet. I can watch storms roll in over the distant mountains on clear days.

He pointed to the center of the city. A massive spire pierced the night sky. It was made of black glass and reinforced concrete. The Council Tower. It stood taller than any other building. It was a monument to their ego and their power. "Silas is in the penthouse," Victor said. His voice was calm. "He surrounds himself with clouds because he thinks he is a god." I looked at the glittering city. It looked impenetrable. There were checkpoints on every bridge. There were patrols on the streets.

It was a resonance spike. It was a countdown. 12:00:00. Eleanor wasn't waiting fourteen days for the board to decide my fate. She was forcing the hand now. The resonance was designed to destabilize the building’s structural integrity by targeting the specific steel alloys used in the tower’s frame. In twelve hours, the Sterling Tower would be a pile of glass and dust. If I stayed to fight the board, the building would fall on my head. If I left to find Isabella, I would be a fugitive, losing the company and my freedom the second I stepped out of the lobby.

Isla’s convoy drove into the *Wyndham Skyline Avenue*. This was not just any neighborhood. It was known for its elegance and sophistication, a high-end residential haven for the elite. Every tower here was a monument of glass and wealth, each belonging to *Wyndham Homes*. People said this was the most expensive penthouse residence in all of Richbouph. The neighborhood stretched with more than fifty glittering towers, each one named and styled differently, rising into the clouds like silent guardians of power.

The young man said, wide-eyed, he had been terrified by the screams that were coming from his boss’s suite. “I’m fine.” Nickolas said and took a steadying breath. He was fine. The ranch was his sanctuary, the dream a distant, fading nightmare. He was Mark Smith. Mark paced around his suite, but some activity caught his attention outside. He stood next to the floor-to-ceiling window and saw more rented cars stop in the driveway; he was getting more business, but it was more than he had bargained for. The more people that came in, the greater the risk of being discovered.

Sarah nodded because they could never steal Celeste’s whole personality. “And another thing that’s strange, how did Hannah and Mr. Lim get into a relationship?” she added. “Mr. Lim, you said? The one who owns an engineering construction company? The famous young president of the company? The number 1 construction company in the Philippines and other countries?” Sarah confirmed. Celeste nodded. “No way, how did Mr. Lim fall for Hannah? Is it possible that Mr. Lim fell in love with Hannah after she had plastic surgery?”