The boardroom smelled of polished oak and expensive cologne, a place built for men who believed the world bent at the weight of their signatures. Zaria sat at the head of the long glass table, a queen among directors, their wary eyes fixed on her. For two weeks, she had done what no one thought possible she had not only stepped into her father’s abandoned legacy but commanded it as if it had always been hers.
The directors had doubted her. Some still did. But each meeting chipped away at their resistance. Zaria was not a pawn they could manipulate. She was a force, and the force had teeth.
Damian Hale lounged at her right, hands clasped loosely, watching the room with that amused sharpness that made her both trust and distrust him. His presence alone was enough to silence half the opposi
