The evening air wrapped around Grace like silk, warm, deceptive, laced with tension. She stood at the balcony of her penthouse, the city skyline glittering beneath her, unaware it was about to become a battlefield.
Julian Creed had played her, used her desperation to plant the roots of a new empire in the ashes of the old. He wanted Ember reborn, not to save lives, but to control them. And Grace had unknowingly unlocked the first gate.
But this time, she wouldn’t be outmaneuvered.
She dialed Calla Voss.
“Set the plan in motion,” she said. “It’s time I showed Julian exactly whose board he’s playing on.”
The next morning, Grace hosted a private press brunch for select media outlets. It was elegant, intimate, champagne, fresh tulips, and just enough tension to suggest something big was a
