The lobby of Thorne Capital was a cavernous expanse of black marble and brushed steel. It smelled of ozone, expensive espresso, and raw power.

Clara marched straight past the waiting area, her soaked boots squeaking faintly on the pristine floor, and stopped at the massive, monolithic reception de

The obsidian glass of the Vance Innovations headquarters loomed against the gray morning sky, a towering monument to Julian’s ego and Clara’s stolen years. Standing on the pavement outside, Clara Hayes looked at her reflection in the polished surface. She barely recognized the woman staring back.

The basement laboratory of Vance Innovations was a sensory deprivation chamber compared to the opulent executive suites above. There were no windows, no marble floors, and no natural light—only the hum of server racks and the harsh glare of dual monitors. For five years, this had been Clara’s gilded