Serena’s POV
The penthouse serves as a nerve center of resolute preparation, the late morning light streaming through the windows, casting a golden sheen across the hardwood floor cluttered with broadcast jamming protocols, Elena Ruiz’s latest movements, the twins’ launch speeches, and a detailed venue layout. The air carries a faint hint of jasmine from my perfume, a lingering echo of the closeness with Adrian during our recent tactical wins, though today’s urgency shifts to the foundation launch and the live exposé threat from Ruiz. I stand by the dining table, my charcoal coat swapped for an elegant yet functional crimson dress, my hair cascading in soft waves, my fingers tracing the edge of a rehearsal script—the truth I’ll share to counter Ruiz’s lies. The foundation for Emily’s memo
