The sharp echo of Cassandra’s high heels filled the glass corridor of her cold, towering office building. Her eyes blazed with fury, every step a declaration of rage. In her right hand, she clutched a half-filled wine glass that trembled with each strike of her heel against the marble floor.

A young assistant followed behind her, trembling, voice barely audible.

“Ma’am… the security team just sent their report. They… they lost track of Rosemary and Damien in the storm.”

Cassandra stopped abruptly. The wine glass shattered against the floor, splattering red like blood across the pristine white tiles.

“What?” Her voice came out cold and deadly. “Lost track?”

The assistant...