The silence that followed Shravani’s exit from my cabin was heavy, tainted by the lingering scent of her expensive, cloying perfume and the even more suffocating stench of her entitlement. I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and stared at the closed door. Life is a relentless theater of the cruel and the hollow. I have spent years navigating a world where people wear their greed like badges of honor, where every smile is a calculated move and every handshake is a hidden trap. They think they are predators, but they are merely scavengers, picking at the bones of whatever power they can find.