The air inside Damien’s private conference suite buzzed with a kind of electric focus that hadn’t been there since Cannes. Now, everything was razor-sharp. There were no distractions, no misplaced trust, just war.
Celeste sat at the head of the table, not beside Damien, but in the actual head chair. A deliberate power move, one that said: I’m not just the actress in the story anymore. I’m writing it now.
Nolan leaned against the far wall, eyes scanning the newly fortified agenda projected behind her. Katya had been cut, Lena ghosted and Drew exposed. They weren’t rebuilding, they were replacing.
Two new hires were seated across from her. One, a former intelligence analyst turned private security advisor. The other, a sharp-tongued digital strategist who had already tripled the engagemen
