Part I – Shattered Reflections
The city repaired itself badly after the attack.
On the forty‑second floor of Hartman Tower, the wind sometimes hissed through tiny cracks in the replaced glass, whispering proof that even rebuilds remember the fracture.
Evelyn watched scaffolds descend along the side of the building, cranes slicing across dawn. A dozen news helicopters still circled, their lenses hungry for evidence that the queen had survived the blow.
She had. Barely.
The desk where the intruder’s device had detonated was gone; only a smooth void remained. Adrian paced nearby, phone pressed to his ear, coordinating forensic audits across three continents, every tone of his voice authority filtered through fatigue.
Luca entered without ceremony, rain dark on his coat. “Operations trac
