Damien’s POV

Morning in the city always brought a different kind of rhythm less about beauty, more about movement. London at eight a.m. was a theatre of calculated chaos; black cabs threading through the arteries of the streets, pedestrians marching with purpose, coffee cups steaming in the grip of those who knew they didn’t have a minute to spare.

I watched it all from the tinted glass wall of my office, the city spread beneath me like a model I could rearrange at will. The skyline ...