SLOANE
Helena strutted into the conference room like she owned the air.
That was the only way I could describe it.
The moment she stepped through the glass doors, the room shifted. Conversations lowered. Chairs stopped moving. Even the hum of the projector seemed quieter.
Power followed her.
Not Alpha power.
Social power.
The kind built from fear, influence, and knowing exactly how dangerous your words could be.
She wore a fitted gray suit and heels that clicked sharply against the floor. Her hair was sleek. Her lips painted a calm red. She didn’t rush. She never rushed. She walked like everyone was already waiting for her.
I watched closely.
The senior lawyer—Mr. Delgado—stiffened the moment she took the seat beside him.
His jaw tightened.
His shoulders drew back.
It was subt
