PART 1: I noticed the glowing numbers on the digital clock embedded in my Audi’s dashboard and felt my chest tighten, not from traffic or heat but from something far deeper, something that resembled fear. It was only two forty in the afternoon. The streets of Milan shimmered under the summer sun, heat rising from the pavement in slow waves, yet my hands were cold against the leather steering wheel. I never left the office before nightfall. My life was engineered down to minutes and margins. Meetings stacked on meetings, quarterly forecasts, overseas calls, shareholders waiting on decisions. Control had always been my strongest currency. Today it had evaporated with one phone call.
