Chapter 35 He Never Asks, Only Takes

• Ivy stepped into the penthouse office where Victor always began his mornings. The air still carried the scent of leather and dark wood, the faint note of expensive cologne lingering like a benediction. The city stretched below them in glass and steel, indifferent to the weight of what happened inside these walls. She held a stack of papers in her hand, one of her recent product reports, printed and bound neatly. She could feel her pulse settle into a rhythm as she crossed the threshold, placing the documents on the desk before him.
• He did not look up immediately. He folded his hands in front of him, fingers pressed together as though holding something fragile. The silence between them thickened for a moment before he reached out and opened the top page. Ivy stood quietly at attention, her chin lifted, her shoulders even. She did not expect praise, not this morning. She expected scrutiny. She leaned into the sharp awareness of his gaze without flinching.
• He read through one section, paused, moved on. His face remained calm, unreadable. He did not nod. He did not offer any expression of interest. He simply read. When he reached the final page, he tapped a finger lightly on a margin where she had circled a key projection. Without looking up, he folded the page inward, touched the table, and closed the report.