The morning air carried the sharp, salt-kissed tang of the Indian Ocean as the first rays of sunlight broke over the Maputo horizon, painting the harbor in shades of burnt orange and pale gold. High above the bustling streets, inside the quiet sanctuary of the penthouse, the silence was absolute. There were no urgent intercom chimes, no frantic messages from jittery board members, and no hostile takeover bids waiting in the inbox. For the first time since Elara Vance had walked into Moretti Holdings, the storm had finally cleared, leaving behind a pristine, unaltered horizon.
Elara stood by the marble island in the kitchen, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug of dark espresso. She had already traded her structured blazer for an oversized white linen shirt that fell past her hips, th
