INGRID
The heavy glass doors of the Sinclair Construction Corp. headquarters loomed before Ingrid Thornhill like a tempting treasure that she had no rightful claim to.
But Ingrid has never been one to let trifling matters such as "rightful claims" stand in her way.
She did it before, and she'd do it again.
No one can stop her.
Her silk scarf fluttered dramatically in the wind as she adjusted her overly large sunglasses. One would think she was going to an art exhibit instead of wreaking havoc in someone else's office.
She disliked places like this, not because of the place itself but because of the owners. It was a reminder that her success stood on unstable ground.
Ingrid's heels clicked against the lobby's marble floor as she approached the reception desk. A bright-eyed young receptionist greeted her with a cheerful smile, and she was partially ticked.
"Welcome to SCC! How may I help you today?"
