The corridors of Wolfe Holdings had changed since yesterday. Or maybe it was just Ethan seeing them differently. Either way, the air carried a different weight—less the familiar hum of business and more the tremor of survival. People moved carefully now, each step measured, each glance calculated. Rumors didn't whisper anymore—they skidded across polished marble like tiny knives.
Ethan walked through the executive floor as if the building itself were his extension. The subtle click of his shoes on marble echoed, a metronome of control, each beat a reminder of who truly ran this empire now.
He didn't speak. He didn't have to. Heads turned, chairs stiffened, and fingers paused mid-type. The hum of the office was punctuated by the faintest coughs and the almost imperceptible shuffle of papers.
