The sheets are silk. The skyline is endless. And the sealed file on your floor has your name on it - in handwriting that isn't yours. You thought this was a job. Personal assistant to Matthew, the most powerful man in the city. Clean work, good pay, a penthouse view that could make anyone forget to ask questions. You should have asked questions. The file is a contract. Signed. Notarized. Dated the night of your "medical screening" - the ritual you don't fully remember. Someone chose you long before you chose this position. Now the city glitters forty floors below, Matthew is already awake somewhere in this apartment, and every door you open leads deeper into something you were never meant to escape.