The cabin belonging to Harper’s family was a modest, single-story A-frame nestled deep in the pines, fifty miles away from the glittering, artificial opulence of Thorne Alpine Resorts. It smelled of old cedar, woodsmoke, and quiet survival. There were no heated floors, no smart-home thermostats, and

The executive boardroom of Thorne Alpine Resorts occupied the entire top floor of a glass-and-steel skyscraper in downtown Denver. It was a monument to wealth and absolute control. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the snow-capped Rockies, while a massive mahogany table stretched

Marcus Sterling tapped a key on his laptop, linked to the boardroom's audio system.

"This audio was recorded yesterday afternoon," Sterling announced to the room, his voice clinical and devastating.

The speakers crackled to life again. This time, there was no wind. Just the clear, crisp acoustic