MONTEFALCO TOWERS — CONFERENCE ROOM
The atmosphere inside the conference room was sharp — every word, every glance, felt heavier than it should.
Aria stood in front of the large LED screen, confidently explaining her campaign pitch. Her poise was undeniable; her voice steady, her ideas solid.
But Travis wasn’t just listening. He was watching her — the way her lips moved, the slight tremor in her voice whenever their eyes met, the quiet strength she tried so hard to hide.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the perfect image of control.
“Miss Quirino,” he said in that low, composed tone that could both command and disarm. “Your presentation is good — impressive even. But tell me, how sure are you that this strategy will work for Montefalco’s image abroad?”
Aria didn’t flinch. “
