The Sunday morning sun pierced through the persistent gray cloud cover left behind by the storm, casting bright, fractured glints of light across the damp pavements of Veyra's financial district.
Inside the penthouse dining room of the Meridian Crown, the usual weekend bustle had been entirely cleared away. The vast, high-ceilinged space was quiet, save for the soft, ambient click of polished silverware being adjusted by a skeleton staff. Jake had kept his word to Adrian; the entire mezzanine floor had been restricted for private executive use, ensuring that no stray reporters or rival analysts from Apex Plaza could catch wind of who was sitting down for lunch.
Jake arrived at precisely twenty minutes to twelve. He wore a crisp, tailored charcoal suit without a tie, his posture relaxed but entirely alert as he took a seat at a central round table overlooking the glass atrium.
