"Oh... What the fuck?"
Gray just sat there, staring at the document like it had personally insulted his sense of reality.
Rosewood Residences.
West Arcadia District.
The words echoed in his mind.
Gray slowly lowered the folder to the desk, his eyes still glued to the line. His mind went quiet for a second—not because he didn't understand it, but because he did.
West Arcadia wasn't just any district. It was the district.
It was the kind of place where penthouse lights never went off, where imported sports cars idled in private garages, and where the streets were cleaner than most hospitals.
It was a polished and luxurious neighborhood where every inch of concrete cost like gold.
And Rosewood Residences?
That name wasn't unfamiliar either.
It was one of those buildings that was featured in magazines, drone-shot apartment tours on social media, and conversations between people who couldn't afford to breathe near its lobby.
