ROWEN

Grayson Towers stood like a concrete dagger in the New York skyline, steel, glass, power. The building hadn’t changed. The city hadn't either. Always cold, always fast. But I hadn’t stepped into this place since I got back into town.

The moment I walked through the rotating glass doors, heads turned.

The hum of conversation in the lobby dipped. People paused mid-sentence. Security guards straightened their backs. Receptionists froze, hands hovering over keyboards. Phones still rang, but no one picked up.

I didn’t acknowledge any of them.

Polished marble floors. Triple-height ceilings. A massive crystal chandelier overhead. The Grayson crest still etched into the wall behind the main reception....