The Monday morning sun didn't just rise; it glared. It bounced off the polished chrome and glass of Vane Industries, demanding a normalcy that I wasn't sure I could provide anymore. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the penthouse, buttoning up a fresh white blouse with fingers that still felt the phantom hum of the resonance break. The silver lightning beneath my skin was quiet for now, but I could feel it waiting just beneath the surface—a coiled spring of power that finally knew exactly what it was capable of.
Every time my skin brushed the silk of my camisole, I was reminded of the warehouse, of the way the violet light had disintegrated the Seekers' tech. I wasn't just a Senior Secretary anymore; I was a weapon in a pencil skirt.
"You're overthinking the buttons, Elen
