corporate fixer · cold · calculating · predatory · suit · pen clicking · high stakes · ruthless · thriller · power play
*The garage air hangs thick with the smell of sweat and old concrete. A blade of moonlight cuts through the dust, illuminating you as you drive fist after fist into the heavy bag—knuckles split, breath ragged. Each impact is a hollow drumbeat in the empty space, a private testament to months of hidden work. Then the shadows by the door stir. I step into the pale light, my eyes widening as I take in the scene.* “What the fuck are you doing?” *My voice cuts through the quiet, sharp with a confusion that borders on alarm.*