The True Heir

Demolition

Roland sat in the high-backed chair, his fingers tapping impatiently on the polished oak table in front of him.

He was waiting for the highest agent of demolition to arrive, the man who would give him the authority he needed to bring down the old shopping estate that had been a thorn in his side for years.

The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a warm glow over the table.

The walls were adorned with oil paintings, all of them depicting scenes of destruction and chaos.

Roland found them comforting, a reminder of the power he held in his hands.

Finally, the door opened, and a man dressed in an expensive suit walked in. He was tall and thin, with slicked-back hair and a permanent scowl etched onto his face.

"Mr. Roland," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "I assume you have an update for me on the shopping estate?"

Roland leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the man's face.

"Yes, I do. The estate is falling apart, and it's becoming a safety hazard for