Adrian’s POV
The penthouse transforms into a war room of unyielding focus, the early morning light piercing through the windows, casting sharp beams across the hardwood floor covered with sniper trajectories, launch guest lists, Elena Ruiz’s cartel profiles, and the twins’ handwritten notes of encouragement. The air carries a faint hint of cedar from my cologne, a reminder of the closeness with Serena during our recent tactical victories, though today’s urgency shifts to the foundation launch and the sniper threat looming over it. I stand by the dining table, my shirt sleeves rolled up, the faded scratches from our past tensions a distant echo on my chest, my fingers tracing the edge of a rooftop sketch—the sniper’s probable vantage point across from the venue. The foundation for Emily’s
