The elevator doors closed behind Luca Bellandi.

I watched from the end of the hall — not close enough to be seen, but near enough to feel the silence he left behind.

He didn’t walk like a man who’d just lost an argument.

He walked like a man who’d lost the future he’d planned.

Inside the elevator, he didn’t speak at first.

His secretary — the same sharp, composed man who’d followed him earlier — stood beside him, eyes forward, hands clasped.

Then, just as the car began ...