The restaurant Silas chose was an exclusive, subterranean speakeasy in Chelsea, hidden behind an unmarked door. Inside, it was a cavern of dark wood, low amber lighting, and leather booths that offered absolute privacy.

We sat across from each other in a secluded corner, a bottle of vintage Bordea

*Six months later.*

The view from the corner office on the top floor of the skyscraper was breathtaking. Manhattan stretched out below, a grid of steel and glass glittering in the morning sun.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored white blazer. I checked the r