The executive elevator in the Newman Enterprise tower rose with a low, hydraulic hum, bypassing twenty floors without a single pause. Inside the brushed-steel cab, Sam Newman stood tapping his polished dress shoe impatiently, nursing a lingering bruise on his wrist and checking his watch every five seconds.
Two minutes ago, two senior corporate security officers had cornered him in the VIP valet lounge of the Grand Hyatt, informing him in firm, non-negotiable tones that his presence was required on the penthouse floor immediately.
'Finn probably heard about Blake running the plate,' Sam thought, a smug smirk twitching at the corner of his lips as the floor indicator lit up for Floor 48. 'Good. Let Finn use the corporate legal team to squeeze those arrogant nobodies. Once Finn sees how disrespectfully they treated me, he'll back me up like he always does when outsiders mess with our family name.'
The steel doors slid open with a soft chime.
