The sound of stilettos echoed across the marble floor like gunshots.
Letisha Corval arrived at dawn, wearing white like a challenge. The diamond on her finger glittered with the sharpness of intent.
She didn't knock.
She didn't need to.
Alex was already waiting in the war room, sleeves rolled up, his inner council seated like a jury around a long mahogany table.
Linda crouched silently behind a vent grate upstairs, ear pressed to the cool metal.
Letisha's voice drifted upward, clear and unbothered.
“Shall I begin, gentlemen? Or are we still pretending this isn't inevitable?"
Marco grunted. “State your terms."
Letisha's tone turned sugar-sweet. “I offer full syndicate merger. All shipping lanes, all tech routes, shared intel. In exchange, Alex and I marry by end of the quarter. We
