Riviera Hotel –Suite 804, 11:47 P.M.
Selene hadn’t slept.
The city beyond the tall glass windows never truly dimmed, but in this room, darkness pressed against her like a physical weight. The only light came from the muted television, its glow an artificial halo that flickered across the furniture, across the edges of her sleepless face. The news anchor’s lips moved without sound, replaying the same segment for the tenth time: Cassien’s victory in the Vortiger boardroom.
They called it “the coup of the decade.”
They called it “a controlled burn.”
They called it shocking, ruthless, brilliant.
But none of the words touched Selene.
The world saw power consolidated, rivals erased, a man claiming what was his. But Selene didn’t feel victorious. The sweetness of triumph had turned to ash
