The Blackwell estate was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning that maintained a pristine atmosphere within Alexander's office. The room, with its imposing black marble desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, and meticulously curated artwork, exuded power and precision—much like the man who occupied it. Alexander Blackwell sat at his desk, his black eyes cold and calculating as he reviewed the documents spread before him. The faint scent of leather from his chair lingered as he reached for the intercom.
"Sebastian," Alexander's deep voice resonated.
Moments later, the door opened, and Sebastian entered. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed immaculately in a tailored three-piece suit. Despite his composed demeanor, years of service in the Blackwell household had honed his ability to detect shifts in the atmosphere, and today, the air felt different.
"You called, sir?"
