Serena’s POV
The penthouse is a haven of quiet resilience, the morning light filtering through the towering windows, casting a soft glow across the hardwood floor strewn with maps, laptops, and the remnants of last night’s strategy session. The air carries a faint hint of cedar from Adrian’s cologne, mingled with the lingering warmth of our closeness—his arm around me as we pored over plans, his breath against my ear during a moment of shared relief after Victor’s arrest. I stand by the kitchen counter, my white blouse crisp but sleeves rolled up, my hair loosely tied, my mind a whirl of triumph and lingering unease. Victor Lang’s capture by Interpol, his confession to orchestrating Emily’s crash to silence my testimony, has turned the tide, the leaked emails and Holt’s downfall fueling a
