The silence of The Obsidian Throne was a clean, surgical contrast to the noise and deception of the gala. Seraphina immediately shed the fragile facade, her muted gray gown feeling like a costume she was desperate to discard. She returned to her workstation, her focus snapping back to the complex web of shell corporations Zaire had projected. Kaelen watched her settle, the subtle tightening of her jaw confirming her commitment to the fight. She was analyzing Phoenix Global’s reinsurance policies, but her attention was fragmented.
She glanced up at Kaelen, who was studying a multi-screen feed of Elias Vance’s movements. Vance, the highly paid investigator, was currently sitting in a private room in a high-end hotel, meticulously ca
