The late-afternoon sun struck the sixty-floor glass walls of the penthouse at a sharp winter angle, pouring long beams of geometric gold across the dark hardwood floors. Outside, Manhattan was a blur of gray steel, freezing wind, and endless motion. Traffic lights flickered against the coming dusk, sirens echoed somewhere far below, and the financial district still moved with its usual ruthless urgency.
But inside the master suite, the world had narrowed into something impossibly fragile.
A single breath.
