LAYLA'S POV
O'BRIEN TOWER, 8:00 PM
The boardroom felt like a ghost of what it used to be. The windows were boarded up with plywood, and yellow caution tape hung loosely around the edges.
Dim light from the city seeped in through the cracks, barely illuminating the long mahogany table, which was covered in a thin layer of dust from the explosion.
The lingering smell of smoke filled the air, creating a heavy atmosphere, which was a perfect backdrop for what I was about to do.
Perfect.
Tye and his team were hidden in the shadows: two in the adjoining conference room and one in the executive hallway, all armed and listening through comms.
But I stood alone at the head of the table, wearing a simple black dress that looked appropriate for mourning. My hair was pulled back, and I had no makeup except smudged mascara that made me look like I'd been crying for hours.
