*“—Vivienne to back off!”*

Julian’s voice exploded through the massive line-array speakers suspended from the ceiling of the Pierre Hotel ballroom. The sound was deafening, amplified to concert-level decibels.

Down on the floor, the effect was instantaneous. Three hundred people jumped simultane

One month later.

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, casting long, golden geometric shapes across the Persian rug. The office smelled of fresh lilies and expensive coffee. The heavy mahogany door no longer bore a silver plaque that read *Co-Founders*.