Chapter 41 The Fall And The Fight

• The penthouse was unnervingly quiet, save for the dull thud of Ethan’s whiskey glass against the marble counter. He sat slumped on the barstool, his once-immaculate suit now rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck. The skyline beyond the glass walls was blurred with fog, the city’s pulse a distant, hollow beat.
• Clara stood by the doorway, her fingers clenching the edge of the kitchen island. The weight of his defeat was thick in the air, suffocating, almost.
• “You’re not out yet,” she said, voice soft but steady.