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Chapter 72 - WHO/WFP

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows of Alexander Blackwell's home office, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow that contrasted with the cool elegance of the space. The polished mahogany desk, gleaming like a work of art, seemed to absorb the light, adding an unexpected touch of comfort to the otherwise bleak surroundings. Bookshelves, laden with leather-bound volumes, lined the walls, and abstract artwork adorned the space with subtle vibrancy, hinting at the depth of Alexander's taste. Everything was in its place, curated to perfection.

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