(LANCE )
The penthouse felt different under the weight of the first full week of federal oversight. Morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting long rectangles across the marble floors and highlighting the subtle gleam of the ankle monitor on my leg. The air carried the rich aroma of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen, mixed with the faint citrus scent of the compliance team’s hand sanitizer and the clean linen of Eliona’s robe as she moved quietly beside me.
I stood at the dining table reviewing the latest compliance report while Eliona poured us both coffee. The bruise on her cheek had faded to a soft shadow, but the memory of the cannery and the cold storage room still lingered in the careful way she moved. She set a mug in front of me and rested her hand on my shoulder
