City Hall carried its usual rhythm of shuffling papers, muted conversations, and echoing footsteps, but the moment Simon Jimenez walked through its doors, the atmosphere shifted. Civil servants straightened instinctively. Strangers moved aside without looking directly at him. Power had a soundless presence, and he carried it the way other men carried breath.
Olivia walked one step behind him, small and quiet, as though she were moving through a dream she could not wake from.
Christoph Richter waited near a private conference room, posture straight, expression precise. His suit looked carved into his frame, his eyes sharp with the calmness only terrifying men possessed. When he saw Olivia, he inclined his head with polite acknowledgment.
“Hello Olivia,” he said recognizing her right away
