The Grand Imperial boardroom was silent and stunned as if no one had ever breathed. Marcus' words, beamed from his satellite terminal, did not just bounce off the walls, it felt like it was a physical explosion; whatever was left of Zeth Richason's carefully constructed universe was blown away.
The central digital display was illuminated with real-time feeds from the media plaza in Manhattan. Real-time feeds were sent from the media plaza in Manhattan to light up the screen of the central digital display. Nielle was in front of a wall of international press lenses, and she was the image of a high fashion, cinematic perfection in a structured white blazer. It was a lesson in calculated vulnerability as she met the chattering crowd of financial reporters, her left hand, and the big diamond
