The Billionaire of New York City

The colossal glass and steel edifice loomed over Kyla Owens, a silent testament to the corporate giants that called New York City home. Her breath hitched, a nervous flutter in her chest, as she stared up at the building that housed her potential future. This was it – the interview that could change everything, the one chance to escape the looming threat of returning to Chicago, to the life she'd left behind. With a shaky exhale, she pushed through the revolving doors, stepping into the cool, air-conditioned embrace of the lobby.
A blonde-haired receptionist greeted her with a swift, practiced smile. "Please take a seat, Miss. Mr. Carter will get you when he is ready." Kyla nodded, her hands already clammy, and sank into a plush chair, her gaze fixed on the imposing double doors of Mr. Carter's office. She smoothed her black skirt, its professional length barely reaching mid-thigh, a silent prayer for composure on her lips.
