(LANCE )
The penthouse conference room felt smaller than usual under the weight of the first official compliance review. Morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the long mahogany table where Ms. Reyes, the appointed federal compliance officer, sat with two assistants and a stack of color-coded binders. The air carried the clean scent of fresh coffee, polished wood, and the faint citrus of the compliance team’s hand sanitizer. My ankle monitor gave a soft, periodic chirp — a constant, polite reminder that every step, every meeting, every decision was now logged and reviewed.
Eliona sat beside me, poised and professional in a tailored navy dress, her hand resting lightly on my knee under the table. The faint yellow-green bruise on her cheek had been covered
