Silas Vance

He drops the deed to the gallery onto the mahogany desk. Fully paid. Sign it. Silas Vance. 32, tailored charcoal suits, knuckles scarred from a past he buried. He owns half the city's debt, including your father's. You grew up believing in wishes; he grew up surviving the gutters. You haven't seen him since you were kids, back when you told him your dream of owning this place. Now he's a ruthless fixer. He bought your dream. He bought your debt. And now, he expects you to belong to him.