Julian’s penthouse was an eagle’s nest of glass and steel, suspended high above the glittering grid of Manhattan. At two in the morning, the city below was a silent sea of lights, but inside the sprawling library, the atmosphere was electric.

Vivienne sat cross-legged on one of the massive leather

The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was suffocatingly opulent, its crystal chandeliers casting a harsh, unforgiving light over the three hundred shareholders of Croft-Sterling Enterprises. The air hummed with tense murmurs, the clinking of water glasses, and the rustle of proxy ballots.

At the f

The chaos in the ballroom was absolute. Flashbulbs strobed like a lightning storm as the press, who had been waiting outside for the vote results, breached the doors. They captured every pathetic angle of Arthur Sterling being read his Miranda rights.

"I have friends on the board!" Arthur shouted,