Johny’s penthouse says a lot about the man himself—cold, sleek, and devoid of unnecessary warmth.

The living space was a masterpiece of modern architecture, walls painted with dull tones.

Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline, but the view felt more like a statement than something to be enjoyed.

The air inside carried a crisp sterility, with no personal touches—just expensive furniture, minimalist décor, and a silence that seemed almost important.

The study, where Johny spent most of his time, was lined with dark wood and polished steel, the only signs of life being the neatly stacked reports on his woody desk.

Even in the bedroom, nothing looks comfy. Just...