Avela's POV
The air in the lobby changed the second I stepped in.
It always did.
Heels clicking against marble. Heads lifting. Voices softening. The sound of respect—or fear—filling the space. My name carried weight here. It was mine. My kingdom.
I forced my shoulders back, chin high. Not a single sign of weakness. Not after everything.
“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair,” the receptionist said, standing a little too straight.
“Morning,” I replied, offering a polite smile. My voice was calm. Controlled. No one could see the storm inside me.
Every step I took echoed with power, the sound bouncing off glass walls and polished floors. My staff turned as I passed, their greetings a soft chorus that followed me to the elevator. I smiled at a few. Nodded at others. It was all muscle memory—auto
