The city lights below flickered, distant and indifferent. A man stood facing the window of the penthouse, watching the rain fall in steady sheets against the glass. It felt as though the world outside was muted, swallowed whole by the storm.
His reflection stared back at him—a man defined by coldness and power. Authority clung to him like a second skin, a force that couldn't be hidden even behind the sharp lenses of his glasses. His eyes were calculating, cold—sharp enough to pierce through anyone who dared meet his gaze. A man who seemed less human and more...
A soft knock sliced through the stillness. The interruption was rare, but not the first of the night. The door creaked open, revealing a man—a silhouette framed by the dim light outside. His secretary, Elias. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. His voice always had that smooth, practiced edge, like he'd rehearsed every word for hours before speaking.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," Elias said, his voice smooth, as though carefully measured for maximum impact. "But there's been a security breach in South Division—possible corporate theft. The board is holding an emergency meeting, and they're waiting for you."
He didn't pause, though a brief flicker of tension tightened his jaw, just for a second. He stepped closer to the desk, his eyes never quite meeting the man's, his weight shifting ever so slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.
"They've asked for your presence, sir," Elias added, a little too quickly, as if his urgency was more about keeping up appearances than conveying truth. He straightened himself again, smoothing out his suit.
The man studied Elias, noting the slightest tremor in his normally steady posture. Elias had always been efficient, methodical—never wasting words or betraying emotion. Tonight, however, his voice carried an unfamiliar edge. Still, the man said nothing more.
"Is that so?" he asked, calm and precise—each word measured, betraying nothing.
His eyes lingered on the outside world for a moment, the rain blurring the city lights beyond the window. Then, they shifted to the family photo on his desk—a snapshot of his wife with their daughter, arms wrapped around each other, laughing beneath the warm sunlight.
Yet another promise to be broken.
He rose, his fingers brushing the knot of his tie—an automatic gesture, precise and controlled. He glanced once at Elias's silent figure, then turned toward the door with slow, deliberate steps. On the surface, he seemed undisturbed, at peace. Yet in that measured stride, there was a tremor too small for anyone else to feel...
He reached for the handle, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary before pulling the door open. The click echoed hollowly down the corridor.
In the hallway, his wife stood by the entrance, watching him. Her gentle eyes—bright with concern—followed his every move.
"You going?" she whispered, her voice weighted with all the questions she couldn't say.
He paused, his hand still on the door handle but didn't look back, didn't offer anything more than the briefest nod.
"I'll be fine." His tone was final as if there were nothing left to discuss. He moved to step past her, his shoulder brushing hers just slightly—too hard to be incidental.
Their daughter's voice floated from the other room.
"Dad, are you gonna help me practice my play?"
He froze—just for a moment, as if time itself had stretched, the weight of her words hanging in the air. He turned, his gaze softening, and knelt down, fingers brushing through her hair. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.
"Next time."
He stood, eyes lingering on her a beat longer than necessary, then turned and walked out—his steps echoing in the silence, carrying an emptiness that didn't need to be explained.
He looked toward Elias, his gaze steady but cold. "Stay here," he said, his voice carrying no room for argument. "Call a driver."
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned, his footsteps purposeful as he moved toward the door.
The rain thickened as he stepped into the black sedan waiting at the curb. The engine purred like always—but something was off. The driver was unfamiliar. Young. Too clean-cut. Too calm.
"I was sent by Sir Elias, sir," the man said quickly, his voice too polished, too rehearsed.
He glanced at him, but his gaze quickly flicked back to the window. He didn't want to be bothered by this new face, not when his thoughts were so clouded. "You know where to go?"
"Yes, sir," the driver replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, never once meeting his.
The city outside slid past in a blur, but the man's mind was elsewhere. Time stretched in the silence, broken only by the rhythmic thrum of the rain against the windows.
Minutes passed. The road felt wrong—longer, more isolated. The city lights had vanished behind them, leaving nothing but darkened streets, the occasional flash of a streetlight too distant to offer comfort.
"You missed the turn," he said flatly, his tone sharpened by the growing suspicion clawing at the back of his mind.
The driver's grip tightened on the wheel, but his face remained unreadable. "I took the detour, sir. The way's faster," he replied, his voice steady but lacking conviction. The answer didn't sit right, but he said nothing more. Something about this felt calculated.
The car continued on, deeper into the unfamiliar roads.
Suddenly, without warning, a truck—large and blinding in its headlights—slammed into the sedan's side. The impact was deafening, throwing the car violently to the left.
The man's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs as the vehicle skidded uncontrollably across the slick road.
The driver fought desperately to regain control, his hands jerking the wheel, but the momentum from the crash sent the vehicle into a wild spin.
The tires screeched against the edge of the wet pavement, and for a moment, everything seemed to stretch into slow motion.
The man's body was pressed hard against the seat, the force of the impact rattling his bones. The world outside was a blur of flashing headlights, rain-soaked streets, and twisted metal.
His vision narrowed as the car continued to spin, tires screeching, the engine roaring in protest. The car was on the edge of falling.
Then, with a final violent jolt, the car slammed down, throwing him against the side of the door, his head spinning 'I broke another promise...' he said before the world around him went black...