While Davis and his wife were having a good rest after a long journey and work time, Desmond's case was a stark contrast to their situation.
The morning sun filtered through the floor to ceiling glass windows and walls of the Allen Corporation's executive conference room, casting cold shadows across the polished marble floor.
The air was sterile, perfumed faintly with fresh lavender fragrance and fresh coffee, but the tension beneath it was palpable.
Desmond Allen walked in, his tailored suit immaculate, his steps deliberate. His eyes swept over the seated board members made up of fifteen men and women whose loyalty he'd secured through years of careful manipulation, favors, and intimidation.
He took his seat at the head the table without greeting anyone. His assistant silently slid a stack of documents in front of him with the morning's agenda tucked behind layers of reports.
