The following morning, the war room at Grant & Associates smelled of dark roast coffee and ozone.

Vivian sat at the head of the conference table, her posture perfectly aligned, sipping from a porcelain cup. She wore a tailored, slate-gray blazer that acted as armor, her face betraying absolutely n

The air inside Maison de Soie smelled of lavender, dust, and raw wealth. Tucked away on the fourth floor of an unassuming pre-war building in the Garment District, the fabric supplier was a closely guarded secret among the global fashion elite. There were no neon signs, no window displays. Just rows

The mediation room on the forty-second floor of the World Trade Center was a masterpiece of corporate intimidation. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a dizzying, omnipotent view of the Manhattan skyline, while the massive slab of cold gray marble serving as the conference table seemed designed to