Chapter 10: Shopping
Somewhere in the heart of Mount West — the bustling commercial capital — towers a sleek 36-story skyscraper: the headquarters of Reaper Entertainment. As the country’s premier production company, Reaper Entertainment manages the nation’s top idols, film stars, and cultural icons. With a staggering valuation of over $18.7 billion, it stands as a dominant force in the entertainment industry — publicly known for its glamor, but privately entwined in deeper, more covert operations.
But beyond its glitzy exterior lies a secret.
Between the 35th and 36th floors — where no elevator stops and no official blueprints dare mark — exists a hidden floor, accessible only through biometric authentication and a hidden side elevator masked as a maintenance shaft.
There, in a corner office with full-length glass walls and a sweeping view of the city skyline, sits a woman in her late twenties.
Monica Vale.
Elegant, precise, and dangerously intelligent, Monica is more than she appears. While the world sees her as a high-ranking executive at Reaper Entertainment, her real role is far more significant: she is Miles’s personal assistant, confidante, and the quiet executor of his multi-billion-dollar empire — an empire hidden in plain sight, spanning tech holdings, global defense contracts, offshore investments, and a private security network that rivals governments.
Her demeanor is composed and unshakable. Always dressed in sleek formalwear, she radiates authority — her presence alone enough to silence a room. Her voice is calm, deliberate, and subtly commanding. She never raises it, because she never needs to.
Monica doesn’t just manage Miles’s empire — she anticipates its movements. Every transaction, every merger, every safehouse, every encrypted message that passes through his world filters through her fingertips first. She’s the type of woman who speaks seven languages fluently, dismantles a cyberattack in under three minutes, and schedules a billion-dollar acquisition while sipping black coffee — all before lunch.
To those few who’ve crossed her? She’s a phantom — efficient, untouchable, and terrifyingly loyal to only one man: The Ghost.
The hidden floor was alive with a quiet storm of activity.
Dozens of personnel moved with purpose — managing portfolios, vetting acquisitions, executing covert transfers, and coordinating operations across continents. Giant screens displayed encrypted data, satellite feeds, and financial dashboards. This wasn’t just an office — it was command central for a silent empire.