In the spacious, elegantly furnished office on the top floor of the towering skyscraper, Ivor sat behind his large mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of documents and reports. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows and illuminating the meticulous order of his workspace. The skyline of the city stretched out in a panorama behind him, a testament to the power and success he had built over the years.

Ivor’s brow furrowed with concentration as he reviewed yet another dense financial report. His thin gold-framed glasses perched on his nose, he methodically scanned the pages, occasionally making precise notations with his pen. The weight of the endless paperwork pressed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the unyielding demands of his position.

With a sigh, Ivor dropped his pen onto the desk and leaned back in his chair, raising his hands to massage his temples. The strain of the day’s relentless pace was beginning to take its toll, and he could feel the creeping onset of a headache. His fingers pressed against his temples in slow, circular motions as he closed his eyes, seeking a momentary reprieve from the grind.

— “Sometimes, it feels like it never ends,”

he muttered, his voice tinged with fatigue and frustration.

— “No matter how much I get done, there’s always more waiting.”

Opening his eyes, he looked across the desk at his young assistant, who was perched on the edge just relaxing. Their presence was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile atmosphere of the office. Ivor is a little more relaxed now that his secret lover is with him.