The ballroom of the St. Regis in San Francisco was a cathedral of corporate vanity. Massive banners bearing the Hayes Technologies logo hung from the ceiling, flanked by high-definition screens looping slick, abstract animations of data streams. Rows of plush chairs were packed with tech journalists

The doors of the black Maybach closed, sealing them inside a soundproof sanctuary as the chaos of the press conference faded into a muted, distant roar. For a long moment, the only sound in the plush cabin was the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the tinted windows and the heavy, synchronized b

The heavy metal doors of the private elevator slid open with a soft chime, revealing a scene that made Clara’s chest tighten with an old, familiar instinct.

Mason Hayes stood flanked by two massive security guards in dark suits. He looked nothing like the arrogant, smirking teenager who had mocked