Vincenzo Dante Volkov:

The warm glow of the setting sun painted my office in shades of gold and orange, but I barely noticed it. My focus was on the reports in front of me—progress updates on the empire I had worked so hard to build.

The door opened suddenly, and Christopher walked in. He didn’t knock, didn’t ask for permission, which meant only one thing: something important. He dropped a folder on my desk, his face pale but tight with anger.

“You need to see this,” he ...