The Vance corporate headquarters occupied the top thirty floors of a monolithic, obsidian-glass skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. It was a fortress of wealth, silent and imposing, a physical manifestation of the iron grip the Syndicate held over the global luxury market.

Inside th

The Grand Atrium of the Metropolitan Museum of Art had been transformed into a sprawling, gilded monument to Damien Sterling’s ego.

Crystal chandeliers the size of small cars hung from the vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over the sea of A-list celebrities, fashion critics, and billio

The silence in the Grand Atrium was absolute, a heavy, suffocating blanket that had fallen over the hundreds of elite guests.

Damien Sterling stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, his eyes darting frantically between Clara’s serene, devastating face and the towering architecture of the Metropolit