Geneva was the global capital of measured wealth and financial discretion, the perfect stage for the final, catastrophic breakdown of Damon Thorne. The Global Financial Council meeting was an event where the world's financial elite gathered to discuss the fate of failed empires—like mine.
My mission, as dictated by Elara's chillingly brief message, was "Maximum liability. Public collapse."
I was flown to Geneva anonymously, checked into a cheap, nondescript hotel, and provided with a small, specialized wardrobe. I couldn't wear my remaining bespoke suits; that would imply residual power. I had to look like a man who had lost everything, not just financially, but psychologically.
I entered the grand meeting hall, not through the main entrance, but through a side door reserved for low-lev
