The city sprawled below the Obsidian Tower’s solarium, a tapestry of steel and ambition that Demetri Volkov had once viewed as a chessboard. Today, he saw it as a horizon. The relentless, driving need to conquer had been tempered, replaced by a quieter, more profound sense of stewardship. The change had a name, and she was walking towards him, her footsteps silent on the sun-warmed stone tiles.
“The board is waiting,” Nora said, her voice a gentle tease that held an undercurrent of unwavering strength. She held a single tablet, a sliver of slate against the cream linen of her dress. “Anya has been very patient, but I believe her exact words were, ‘If he doesn’t sign off on the Singapore merger by noon, I’m rerouting the corporate jet to a remote island and retiring.’”
Demetri turned from
